


Forgotten Music

by SoonToBeCyborg



Series: The Ancient Music [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bittersweet Ending, Blow Jobs, Drowning, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Human!Outsider, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Interrogation, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, but in a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7400794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoonToBeCyborg/pseuds/SoonToBeCyborg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corvo’s relationship with the Outsider has evolved from uncertain ally to close friendship in the five years since Emily took the throne. But now, the Outsider needs Corvo’s help. Vulnerable and human, he must find out who is responsible for a massive magical backlash within the Void. And once he does, the Outsider must take back what is his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

On his most recent visit to the Void— where whale song and dysfunctional gravity flowed around him like water—Corvo sipped a glass of King Street Brandy at a high-backed bar chair on a floating island. It had a fabulous view of an upside-down waterfall that crashed over old castle ruins. They were unlike anything he had ever seen. Pandyssian perhaps? And as always, a great whale hovered in the distance, stationary and just out of reach. No matter how the landscape shifted or how many islands he blinked to, it was always the same distance away. One of the many illusions in this place he presumed.

The Outsider seemed to understand when Corvo needed to flee reality for one unconscious evening. The Void had slowly become Corvo’s secret retreat when the pressures of the world weighed too heavy on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure when he had become so comfortable here.

And together they sat, the old one droning on about the ruins he confirmed to be Pandyssian. Or at least they would have been if the civilization had ever existed.

“A tribal war and a drought prevented its rise in the end. But only just. It would have surpassed all empires before it and conquered most of the continent before its fall.”

The Outsider sat by Corvo’s side as they watched the foreign towers slowly crumble beneath the battering of the water. Great chunks of it flew off with incredible force only to lose momentum in the Void and float away peacefully into the soft blue distance.

It helped to be here. It centered him now. He had grown strangely accustomed to this place over the last five years.

~~~~~~~~

In those first months of horror and betrayal after Jessamine’s assassination, he stood silently before the floating avatar of the Void as it rambled cryptically about things to which Corvo should have been paying far more attention. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. The former Royal Protector was filled with mistrust and and anger. He was numb with grief and searching frantically for his daughter. He received powers for which had not asked, nor wanted, but was obliged to use to save Emily. And if he had to listen to the strange thing prattle on about “fascinating possibilities” in return for a rune that amplified his powers, so be it.

Then it was over. He had won. Emily’s ousters were neutralized. The Loyalists who sought to use her as a puppet were dead or in prison. Daud was spared, never to return to Dunwall. In the end he’d been merely a tool, a weapon of the real enemies. The young empress was safe. And the Heart beat in his coat pocket, still whispering secrets.

Dunwall limped along until a cure for the plague was developed thanks to the joint efforts of Piero Joplin and Anton Sokolov. But even with the cure distributed among the people free of charge, orders of Empress Emily, the aftermath of the nightmare brought just as much uncertainty as the plague itself.

There were shortages of food, fuel and safe housing. Civil unrest was followed by scheming nobles. Things would not be stable for some time. However, they would be stable again. One day.

~~~~~~~~

Corvo expected the mark on his hand to disappear and the echoes of whale song in the back of his mind to dissipate, like a half-remembered dream. It was over after all. Wasn’t it? Instead, the warm pulsing on his skin and in his mind remained a steady presence in his life despite the fact he rarely used his supernatural gifts anymore. Apparently, the Outsider found this “fascinating.”

During one assassination attempt on Emily, Corvo had no choice but to slow time to snatch a crossbow bolt away from the girl’s young heart with only inches to spare. Without that particular gift he would not have been fast enough. No one would have.

After the would-be assassins were dealt with and Emily was secured in her rooms, Corvo could not force himself to rest. Once the Tower’s residents were sound asleep he made his way out through one of the servants’ entrances. He Blinked furiously about the city, from rooftops to towers as fast as he could until he exhausted himself and lost consciousness in an alley.

He found himself in the Void with a pair of ink-black eyes staring holes into him. If he didn’t know better, Corvo would have thought the Outsider angry at him.

“Self-destruction is such a predictable response to fear, my dear Corvo.” The lilt of his voice was every bit as detached as usual but the song of the void was deeper somehow. Tense.

“She could have died!” Corvo stepped forward, foolishly unafraid of the being before him. “I know our lives mean less than nothing to you, but she is everything I have! And that bolt was inches from her heart. If I hadn’t—”

“But you did. Because you used the gift I gave you, you were able to save your empress. And yet, you are not pleased.”

“Was it you? Did you send an assassin to goad me into finally using these damned powers again?” Corvo took another bold step into the Outsider’s space. It wasn’t an impossible accusation given the god’s indifference to humanity and his desire for entertainment.

“No, I did not arrange the assassin. Nor did I aid or empower him. I saw him. Just as I saw that you would be able to stop him.”

The answer was shocking in its bluntness. “That’s it? No cryptic nonsense? No speculation about my character or future? No confusing metaphors to keep me awake at night?”

The corners of the Outsider’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. Not a smile. But something.

“I keep you awake at night, Corvo?” He drifted the few inches to close the gap between their faces, black eyes boring into Corvo’s.

Corvo’s pulse quickened and his eyes widened. He fought the urge to withdraw gracefully, a skill developed after years of dissuading the advances of drunk noblewomen at Royal galas. But he did not back away. It was a matter of pride, he told himself.

Just as quickly, it was the Outsider who retreated.

“You should get more rest. You need to have your reflexes at their best if you wish to serve your empress to the best of your abilities.” 

Corvo woke in the morning, not in the alley he’d passed out in, but in his quarters at Dunwall Tower. He still wore his clothes from the previous night. Whale song echoed in his head.

~~~~~~~~

He didn’t use his Mark again. But after two months of dreams that strayed no further than the inside of his own mind, Corvo did seek the Outsider on his own.

The shrines were easier to find than they should have been, given the stiff penalties for heresy. It seemed like there were more of them than he remembered from his time as the Masked Felon. People were becoming bold in the face of a weakened Abbey. Still, he had to be careful about lingering too long at the foot of an unfamiliar shrine. He wouldn’t put it past the new Overseers to leave some of them intact as traps to lure unsuspecting worshippers.

So Corvo decided to build his own.

In the attic of the Hound Pits Pub he collected pieces from other shrines around the city. He stole some purple cloth from a shrine in the sewers. Where did people find the unique fabric, he wondered. He took the iron rods from a derelict alter on the roof of a tenement building in the Flooded District, and the oil lamps came from a secret room in an abandoned manor house. If caught with any one item he could claim ignorance, so they were transported separately.

The resulting shrine was a cobbled together mess that failed to sing without a rune. Corvo hadn’t dared walk around the city with one on his person. He had too much to lose. Instead, he placed his hand directly on the center of the small table. It bore the same mark as those carved pieces of whale bone. Maybe it would—

“Ah, Corvo. I was wondering when you would seek me out. Though I did not expect you to build a shrine of your own.” The Outsider glanced down at the altar as if to pass judgement on the craftsmanship. “You were far more likely to shout at the sky or throw curses into the wind, hoping they would reach me. This is far more direct.” His his mouth curled upwards for a fraction of a moment. “Unexpected.”

“I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know why I built this damned thing.” Now that the Outsider stood, or hovered, before him Corvo realized he hadn't planned out what he wanted to say.

“It is out of character,” the Outsider observed flippantly.

Corvo hesitated before he answered, “You left me alone.”

“I was under the impression you desired to be left alone.”

“I did,” he insisted. His eyes wavered and he averted his gaze. “I do.”

“You still have not used your gifts, Corvo. Even though there was another attempt on young Emily.”

Corvo furrowed his brow. He needn’t be reminded. “We caught him in time. I didn’t have to.”

“Are you better rested now? You go to bed every night like a man who cannot wait to dream. Unusual, for someone who so often finds nightmares.”

Corvo said nothing.

And with that, the tendrils of the void dissipated and the Outsider vanished. Corvo stood alone before his terribly crafted altar in the old attic room, staring at the crumbling brick.

~~~~~~~~

The next time the Outsider visited Corvo’s dreams, the Void seemed softer somehow.

Objectively it looked the same as always: Floating islands of familiar structures, frozen tableaus of people and events, the leviathan in the distance. But, more and more often, Corvo observed the meaning behind the new wonders, and horrors, of his nightly visits. Nothing was ever presented to him without a reason and he learned to look for clues in his surroundings.

A few such observations helped him piece together yet another plot against Emily, and in just the nick of time.

A floating iceberg, a fractured whaling boat and the frozen visage of a laughing noble led to the investigation and arrest of an entire rival political faction that the new Royal Spymaster had missed. The man was subsequently relieved of his position, since they lacked any evidence to convict him of being in league with the potential usurpers.

“Good help is so hard to find, isn’t it, Corvo?” the Outsider asked. He strolled at Corvo’s side on a beach with constantly shifting sand and rocky cliffs. The Outsider had taken to walking, or appearing to do so, in the Void. It made the visits more comfortable for Corvo if he didn’t have to crane his head upwards when he spoke.

“I knew he’d be a temporary replacement. He wasn’t fit to serve as Spymaster. But the sheer level of incompetence…” Yancy Chambers had come highly recommended by almost all of the noble houses. And now Corvo could guess why. He trusted fewer and fewer people by the day.

Corvo sighed when he didn’t receive a reply and glanced around at the changing landscape.

A peasant girl in clothes from an unfamiliar culture stood frozen behind an outcropping of boulders as she spied two well-dressed ladies engaged in what appeared to be an illicit act of intimacy. The ladies never saw the commoner spy. Most high-born only noticed one another, and acted as if their mansions and belongings simply cleaned themselves.

The Outsider grinned as Corvo’s eyes widened in epiphany. The pair kept walking.

Despite his indifference to the suffering of men, the Outsider was one of the few people in his life Corvo could trust not to kill him. As sad a realization as that was, it also opened his eyes. The Outsider didn’t use his powers to jump in and right the wrongs of the world, but nor did he seek to actively contribute to the chaos, despite the Abbey’s teachings about him. And after the chaos Corvo had seen in his life, that counted for something.

~~~~~~~~

Corvo replaced the old Spymaster with an equally incompetent noble who pranced about in conspicuous jackets and spoke far too loudly at parties about topics which, were he privy to any real secrets, would have landed him in Coldridge prison. Dunwall’s dwindling nobility decided the newest spymaster’s ignorance was certainly an act. Dominic Umbridge was a master of the craft. How else could so many of their plots have been uncovered?

No one noticed the well-fed and quiet servants who transferred from one estate to another with relative ease. No one would notice years later when those same servants, hair beginning to grey at the temples, came to inherit minor holdings on neighboring islands. Most would have to leave Dunwall to avoid suspicion of their sudden good fortunes, but discretion and loyalty to the Kaldwin dynasty was rewarded handsomely. For most servants, the promise of a merchant-class lifestyle in their twilight years was worth more than any one-time bribe from a Dunwall aristocrat.

~~~~~~~~

Predictably, the truce between Piero Joplin and Anton Sokolov did not last. The two men were so much the same it would be impossible for them to exist within the same space for too long. Great minds rarely enjoy like company. Still, despite their recent falling out, Piero remained an influential force within the Academy of Natural Philosophy. Sokolov himself had secured the Piero’s readmission to the institution and having him expelled again would have cost him too much political capital.

“Why do you hate Sokolov?” Corvo asked the Outsider one night. “I caught him staring at my hand again, by the way. I think he wants to cut it off and study it.”

They were seated side by side in an upturned amphitheater, staring at masked actors on a stage. Corvo wasn’t sure if the tableau before him was a scene from a comedy or violent thriller. But the colors were striking and he could imagine how entertained the original audience would have been.

“I do not hate Anton Sokolov. He merely bores me.”

“He’s a genius. Every bit as brilliant as Piero. And many of Piero’s brilliant breakthroughs come from you.” Corvo overheard Joplin muttering about strange dreams enough to guess about the origins of his morning epiphanies. “Imagine what Sokolov could do with your… gifts.”

The Outsider stared straight ahead. “I know exactly what a man like Anton Sokolov would do with my gifts.”

~~~~~~~~

“You claim not to play favorites,” Corvo said one night, as they sat beneath a massive tree, larger than anything native to the isles. There was a small basket of exotic fruits for Corvo to sample and a stunning lake in the distance, albeit on its side and spinning. “You give no commands and ask for nothing in return for such power.” He ran the Marked hand through his hair. “I keep waiting for the catch. There must be one. Will I go go mad like Granny Rags one day?”

“Being one of my Marked is not a sentence of insanity, Corvo. But many do go mad.”

“So they fail you in some way and you punish them?” Corvo asked.

“I do nothing. However, many use their powers in ways they cannot control. They suffer the consequences of their own hubris. But I do not encourage or discourage this.”

“So why bother interfering at all? Why mark anyone?”

“Because occasionally someone surprises me,” said The Outsider, staring blankly into the distance. 

The more time Corvo spent in the Void, the more insignificant the problems of humanity seemed. It didn’t make him care any less about people but sometimes he could understand why a god would be so indifferent to the minutia of human existence. He blinked and the scenery changed. The people died. Their civilizations disappeared. The detached fascination of the Outsider made sense when he considered this was his friend’s entire existence: Watching. Now he found it amazing that the Outsider cared enough to Mark people at all.

~~~~~~~~

Corvo smiled as he reminisced about his time here.He tilted back his tumbler of brandy as the last pieces of the ruined tower of the Empire-that-never-was floated into the distance. They were such fragile things, empires. How difficult it was for them to rise. How easily they fell. How soon they were forgotten. Corvo wondered how long it would be before the Empire of Isles crumbled into the sea.

His thoughts strayed to Jessamine.

He was one of the few people who ever knew Jessamine Kaldwin as anything other than “Empress.” She was cold and calculating when she had to be, but never without reason. Her position required her to make hard choices and he always respected the iron will that came with wielding that power. But Corvo fell in love with her when he saw just how little that power had corrupted her spirit. He was privy to the private life of the most powerful person in the empire and what he found was unexpectedly simple.

In those early days they fantasized about running away together to Serkonos, or Morley, even forbidden Pandyssia. They imagined what it would be like, just the two of them and their love.

But Jessamine would always be an empress. She would live and die with that title. Some men wouldn’t have been content to stand in her shadow the way Corvo was. But Corvo was not most men. For him, it was enough to be one of the few people to ever call Empress Jessamine Kaldwin “Jezzy” behind closed doors.

Corvo turned to stare at the profile of his ink-eyed companion.

“Do you have a name? A human name?”

The King Street Brandy didn’t burn the same way in the Void as it did in the waking world. He couldn’t be certain that he was actually feeling the effects of alcohol or if that was an illusion as well. Regardless, Corvo’s tongue was feeling loose.

“I am not human, Corvo. Why would I have a human name?”

Corvo shrugged. “I never call you anything. Not once in five years. I call you ‘the Outsider’ in my head, but when we meet it sounds strange to say it.” He stared into his glass and said, “All you seem to have are titles. Everyone should have a name.”

The Outsider remained silent for a long time, staring into the Void with an inscrutable look. Corvo had given up on receiving an answer from him when the Outsider made a small sound akin to a sigh.

“Ceòl.”

The accent was unfamiliar. The name probably belonged to a language long since dead.

“Cole?” The minute pinching of the Outsider’s face said volumes. “I butchered the pronunciation, didn’t I?”

“It is close enough that I will answer to it.”

They returned their gaze to the Void and spent the rest of their visit watching empires rise and fall.

~~~~~~~~

Time passed, and things improved at Dunwall Tower. The city still had a long road to recovery but there had been no assassination attempts in over two years. Corvo’s spies reported a significant decrease in bribery and brutality on the part of the City Watch. Trade was reopened with all major ports. There were even a small handful of men Corvo trusted to guard Emily, at long last.

Corvo knew he didn’t need to update the Outsider about current events. He surely knew it all and far more. But as the Royal Protector, Corvo had no real friends or confidants with whom he could simply talk about his day.

He often found himself wondering why he was dragged into the Void every other night during his sleep. Not that he minded at all, but what did he have to offer? He hadn’t used his Mark since the incident a few years ago and was living life as a normal human.

Tonight when he met the Outsider, Corvo found himself within a lush rose garden conjured by the Void. Unusual. The Outsider usually picked less mundane locations. The garden was gorgeous, if a bit unkempt, and not unlike something one would see in Dunwall.

Corvo reached down to pluck a flower from a nearby bush but before he could grasp it, the Outsider snatched his hand away. Corvo whipped around to face him, shocked at the touch. The Outsider’s eyes were wide and stared into the distance with an expression closer to worry than Corvo had ever witnessed on his pale face. The grip on his wrist tightened. In the distance the whale began keening.

The edges of Void grew dark as tendrils absorbed light on their path towards the leviathan. The worn stone islands turned black and splintered, flying in every direction.

The Outsider placed a warm hand on Corvo’s chest, and with a violent shove he commanded,

“Go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me on tumblr[ @soontobecyborg](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/)
> 
> 1,000 thanks to [akfedeau](http://archiveofourown.org/users/akfedeau/pseuds/akfedeau) for beta-reading for me!


	2. Chapter 2

No sooner had the Outsider commanded “Go” than Corvo jerked awake in his bed.

The sudden ejection from the Void left him with a pounding headache and drenched in sweat. He felt oddly disconnected from himself, like he was tethered to his body but floating just outside of his own skin. It took several minutes of deep breathing through a terrible sense of dread before Corvo felt solid again.

The instant he could, he levered himself up and and began to pace the floor. What in the Void had just happened? Literally, what just happened in the Void? There had been a sense of something off during this most recent visit, like a piano playing a familiar song slightly out of tune. But the Outsider hadn’t indicated anything amiss, and it was his realm.

Corvo squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of the Outsider’s surprise was burned into his mind. How was that possible? Wasn’t he omniscient? How could a god be taken by surprise in a place where he was all-powerful?

He thought about Jessamine again and it was like a punch to gut. She had been the Empress. She’d had guards, scientists and spies at her beck and call. She was cut down in her own garden.

No. Corvo shook himself from the memory. He was overreacting. Something unexpected had happened, yes. But the Mark was still there. He focused and flexed his hand, feeling the warmth of the magic crawl up his arm as the Mark glowed the colors of the sun and sea. If it still worked then the Outsider was still… in existence.

The clock showed the time to be nearly an hour before dawn. Corvo wanted to find a shrine and attempt to make contact, but there were no shrines within the Tower anymore. He’d seen to it discreetly some years ago. He couldn’t afford to give Overseers with political aspirations any ammunition to use against Emily or her staff.

The nearest shrine he could access safely and with any degree of privacy was clear across the river at the Hound Pits. But servants were already waking and beginning their duties in the kitchens. A pre-dawn excursion would draw attention. Plus, he couldn’t leave Emily alone with no warning.

Corvo sighed and hung his head. It would have to wait until the following night. The Outsider was older than time, or so he had once claimed. He could take care of himself.

* * *

He wasn’t alone. Someone was here. How?

There was a roaring sound and the sensation of falling. No time to react.

He hadn’t seen this happening, not even in the most distant threads of possibility on the fringes of the Void. He hadn’t seen.

Contingencies and backup plans all failed as he fell. Too many uncertainties. No way to know the outcomes. There was no way to know now.

Reflex and instinct were not the tools of a god. But as the Outsider stretched thin and was dispersed into the Void, those long ignored instruments of humanity became useful for the first time in millennia.

The fragment of him that still remained, reached out. He grabbed hold of something familiar and safe. He pulled himself free.

* * *

The crack of skull on a dusty wooden floor sent shockwaves of pain along every nerve. A mouth opened to scream, but breath left the lungs with little more than an “umph” sound. A body curled reflexively on its side, like a child in the womb, to shield against unseen dangers. Tears fell freely from eyes the color of sea foam.

The sound of pulsing blood in his ears drowned out everything else while his body trembled and struggled for breath. Panic. He realized distantly through a haze of unfamiliar consciousness that he was panicking and he couldn’t stop. The heartbeat in his ears masked the sound of footsteps approaching on creaky stairs. Otherwise, the Outsider would have tried to meet Samuel Beechworth with some clothes on.

* * *

Cecelia roused Samuel from his room when she heard a thumping noise in the attic. She was too afraid to go check on it herself knowing what was up there. Samuel ignored the shrine when he discovered it a few years ago, too afraid to touch the damn thing. Also, he didn’t want to risk angering whoever put it there, though he had an idea as to who that was.

Heresy aside, Corvo was a good man; one of the best Samuel had ever known. So he could forgive the eccentricity, especially with all he’d done to restore order to the city. Samuel was prepared to find the Royal Protector engaged in something illegal that he would need to turn a blind eye to and then go back to bed.

The naked boy on the floor was not Corvo.

Samuel stood speechless, lantern held high in the pre-dawn light, and lowered his pistol. The boy— no, a young man judging from the broad shoulders— was having some kind of fit, shaking and gasping for breath. If he saw Samuel standing there he didn’t react. He sighed heavily and shoved the pistol into the back of his pants.

“Hey!” Samuel shouted.

The young man snapped to his senses and half sat up before he swayed and almost tipped over again. Balanced on his hands and knees, he met Samuel’s gaze.

The old boatman hadn’t seen eyes that color before. But he’d heard other sailors describe them: Pandyssian green. Samuel was involved with something way over his head. Again.

“You alright?” he asked nervously.

The young man took a few more deep breaths and averted his gaze. He didn’t speak but shook is head emphatically: No.

Well, that much Samuel could see. A few quiet minutes passed as the naked stranger tried to calm himself. He wasn’t lashing out, though, and that was a good sign. Samuel had seen some men react to panic like cornered animals. Whoever this was, he was working through it. So, Samuel slowly removed his jacket and sat crossed legged next to him to wait it out.

When the man’s naked shoulders stopped shaking, Samuel spoke quietly.

“I’m gonna drape this jacket over you. Ok? It’s, uh, well, it’s clean enough.”

The young man didn’t move away and twitched his head in what Samuel assumed was a nod. The jacket was worn and old, but would be warm in the early morning chill. It fit well enough and the young man’s trembling hands reached up to pull it closed over his chest.

“Look, I don’t need to know what you were doing up here if it’s gonna get either of us dragged off by the Overseers. But if you’re in some kind of trouble…”

The man barked out a single laugh, near hysterical, before he collected himself again.

“This is the Hound Pits Pub, is it not?” he asked.

“Yeah. You don’t remember how you got here?”

“Not precisely.” The young man stared at the shrine as if it held some answers. But it remained dark and silent. He levered himself upright and onto unsteady legs. “I need to find Corvo Attano. The matter is urgent.”

Samuel rose to meet him at eye level. “Not until you tell me who you are. I’m being real understanding given you’re the one trespassing, naked, and engaged in heresy.”

The stranger bristled visibly. “The shrine is installed on your property, Samuel Beechworth. You are not fool enough to alert the authorities.”

“How do you know my name?” Samuel asked, uncertainty coiling low in his gut.

“Samuel?” Cecelia’s voice called up the stairs. “Samuel? Are you alright? It’s been a while!”

“I’m fine, Cecelia! Just… hey, can you put a kettle on? And bring up some pants?”

There was a pause before she responded. “Pants?”

“Yeah, something in your size should fit,” he called, giving the young man a hesitant once over.

* * *

Cecelia’s pants fit.

The Outsider sat and absorbed the strange sensations around him as he tried to prevent himself from spiraling into another fright. The cold morning air crept across his bare torso in the attic room. The mug of bitter tea warmed his hands and burned his tongue. The incessant pumping heart within his chest was a dull thud behind his ribs.

He had to broaden his focus. Examine the situation. Make a plan. But every time the Outsider attempted to come to terms with reality, his new reality, the human form he now inhabited threatened to fall apart.

“I found some more clothes!” Cecelia announced. “They belonged to Wallace before— well, before. He had them all packed up in a suitcase for the journey with Lord Pendleton and…” She trailed off and handed him the items. “They’re a bit big, but they’re clean.”

He examined the neat shirt and jacket in his arms. They were far too big for his lithe frame as he held them against his chest and stared at his reflection in the mirror in the corner.

The face was his own, but the body was older than the first time he lived as a human. He was broader as well. And there were no callouses, burns or scars on the pristine skin. This body was grown and new. It hadn’t struggled for fifteen years, stunted by starvation and withered by uncertainty. This is how he would have looked if—

The Outsider threw the clothes on hastily and without pausing to give thanks. Cecelia handed over boots as well, with a thick pair of socks to act as padding against the extra space in the toes. He looked ridiculous. But that was the least of the problems at hand.

“I need to find Corvo Attano,” he repeated. He pushed Corvo from the Void before the shockwave hit. The sudden ejection wasn’t ideal. There would be temporary side effects and disorientation, but Corvo was surely alive.

But Samuel and Cecelia didn’t answer. They looked at one another, casting uncertain glances between each other and the Outsider. Finally, Samuel broke the silence.

“Yeah, you said that already. What I wanna know is who you are and why you want to see him. I’m old enough not to stick my nose in other people’s business, but this doesn’t smell right.”

Obviously the truth wasn’t an option. “It concerns the future of your city, but I can say no more.”That sounded urgent enough.

Cecelia gasped and whispered something in Samuel’s ear. He shook his head incredulously.

“Then why does he need us to make contact? Gotta be a trap. He don’t talk like any servant I ever heard.”

“You think I’m one of Corvo’s commoner spies?” Corvo used Samuel and Cecelia to gather information on a plotting noble last year when his regular sources fell through.“Yes, I am. There is important information he needs.”

Samuel scoffed. “Well we don’t think that anymore. Not after that response.”

The Outsider needed Samuel’s boat. The city, while familiar in theory, would be a nightmare to navigate unaided. He would be an easy target for robbers or worse, despite his lack of valuables. 

“I need his help. He knows me.”

“Prove it,” said Cecelia. “Prove you know Corvo.”

His mind was muddled and scattered, but the Outsider pulled from the depths for information detailed and personal enough to serve as “proof.” But it would need to be confirmed by two people who had not seen the Royal Protector in some time either.

“Very well.” He took a deep breath. “Cecelia. You survived the Loyalists’ betrayal by hiding in an apartment across the street.” He pointed out the window to the abandoned corner flat. “Havelock, Pendleton and Martin didn’t even search for you. They forgot about you as soon as you left their line of sight. You always thought it was a curse, but it was your salvation that day. Corvo found you there before his assault on the City Watch.”

She stood flabbergasted as he continued.

“Samuel. Before he arrived on Kingsparrow Island, Corvo was at a breaking point. He was exhausted, twice betrayed and questioning the very idea of mercy. Havelock’s treachery broke something inside him. Corvo was going to leave a trail of corpses on his path to Emily that day. He was too tired to show mercy. But then, you told him you respected him. You let him know how much his actions influenced you. That moment is what stayed his blade and spared the lives of countless guardsmen.

“By the time he reached the apex of the lighthouse, Pendleton and Martin were already dead— poisoned by Havelock, if you were curious. And as much as Corvo wanted to watch the light fade from Havelock’s eyes, he spared the Admiral in the end as well. All because Samuel Beechworth believed in him.”

Cecelia was close to tears. “How— I never told anyone but Corvo about the apartment.”

“And I never told anyone what I said to him at the lighthouse,” said Samuel.

“But Corvo told me,” the Outsider replied. A white lie. “And there is much I must tell him.”

* * *

The Outsider was seasick. Of course he was. He ate a simple breakfast of fruit and tea at the Hound Pits before they left that morning and the meal was threatening to make a reappearance. Remembering the potted whale meat served alongside it wasn’t helping matters.

As they drew closer to Dunwall Tower, Samuel steered them further downriver. “They won’t let any unauthorized boat use the water locks,” he explained. “Security. I’m assuming Corvo doesn’t know you’re coming?”

The Outsider shook his head where it rested between his knees.

“Well, I’m gonna have to dock further down. And unless you know some secret way inside that place, you’ll need to use the main gate on Barrowe Street.”

“That will do,” he said.

There was increased security at the servants’ entrances now. And the secret passages for the royal family couldn’t be opened from the outside anymore, not after the assassination of a sitting Empress during the Morley Insurrection. His best chance of seeing Corvo immediately, without also risking death by breaching security, would be to simply ask for him by name. It was a risk.

Finally, blessedly, the boat came to a stop. The Outsider stepped onto the dock. The sudden adjustment to land made him nearly loose his balance but Samuel seemed to have anticipated that and caught him by the elbow. A few fisherman made snide comments about his sea legs but the Outsider didn’t care.

He needed to figure out what was going on.

* * *

Corvo stood guard while Emily finished her breakfast with exquisite manners that did not suit her. She played the part of delicate lady as was expected, but it pained him to see her playing a role that made her miserable. She’d stopped asking to captain her own ship. She no longer begged to explore the uncharted oceans or fight pirates. Emily Kaldwin woke every morning, painted a smile on her young face, and became who everyone else wanted her to be. Corvo wondered if Jessamine would hate him for letting this happen.

Emily’s day was full of tutors and lessons, an afternoon meeting with Captain Curnow, and an evening briefing from Spymaster Umbridge that should prove entertaining. Her days were tightly scheduled from dawn to dusk with the exception of a thrice weekly gap in her curriculum where a music instructor was supposed to be. Most of Dunwall’s musicians had lived in districts that were the most heavily devastated by the plague and were still in recovery. The others who survived had taken up in the newly bohemian Drapers Ward and were deemed “unqualified socially” by noble society to teach the Empress. Applicants were hard to find. 

“Pardon me, Lord Protector.” One of the guards approached Corvo on hesitant feet. “But there’s a twitchy young man at the gates asking for you by name. We tried to send him away. He looks like an urchin who stole some other man’s clothes and shoes. But he swears you know him and will want to see him.”

“I’m not expecting anyone, Sergeant,” Corvo replied. “And no one outside the Tower has any business with me.” That wasn’t true. But his spies all communicated via dead drops and intermediaries. And those few contacts who saw his face were under the assumption that Corvo was merely acting as errand boy for the Royal Spymaster. So as far as everyone else knew, Corvo spent his days as Emily’s shadow and part-time administrator.

“I know. And that’s exactly what the gate guards said to him. But he refused to move from his place in the queue. Normally we would’ve taken him around back and—” The man rethought that last statement. “But knowing how the empress disapproves of such things, of course he wasn’t harmed, simply removed from the line. But he’s still out there. Won’t go away. Said to give you his name and you’d come running.”

Corvo huffed a short laugh. “He sounds confident.”

“Says his name is… Coal. Or Cull. Something like that.”

In a blink, Corvo spun and grabbed the man’s collar. “What name was that? Was it that name exactly?”

“No, he uh,” the guard stammered, “he said it funny. With an an accent. But it was something like that. Apologies if I—”

But Corvo had already released him. With a quick word to Emily, he passed her off to her first tutor of the day and arranged for a small contingent of his most trusted guards to replace him while he dealt with an unexpected matter.

Corvo did not run, but he was slightly out of breath when he reached the gates. This early in the day, there was a long line of vendors delivering goods, merchants settling bills, and visitors arriving for a variety of reasons. They all had to be verified with a log of expected arrivals, signed in, checked for weapons and escorted by guards. So a long line was typical even on days where no events were planned.

He scanned the crowd looking for… for who, exactly? If the young man, described as an urchin, had been hovering a foot off the ground with black eyes in his head the guards would have mentioned that. It occurred to Corvo that this could be a prank. The Outsider was laughing at him from he Void right now, wasn’t he? He gave his name to someone in a dream with directions to taunt the Royal Protector for being worried about him. The Outsider’s worshippers did tend to match the description of “twitchy urchin.”

“My dear, Corvo,” said a familiar voice.

He spun around and was met with an unexpected face. It wasn’t the Outsider and yet, somehow, the young man before him was unmistakable. 

“How?” he whispered, after far too long spent staring in amazement at the face before him. People were watching now. It wasn’t often Corvo left the Tower.

The young man was also aware of the interested gazes. “We should speak somewhere with more privacy, I think.”

Corvo placed a hand gently on his lower back and led him past the gates. Through the oversized coat, he could feel the Outsider trembling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me on tumblr[ @soontobecyborg](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/)
> 
> 1,000 thanks to [akfedeau](http://archiveofourown.org/users/akfedeau/pseuds/akfedeau) for beta-reading for me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters again! It'll just be one chapter every week after this, but I didn't want to drag out the opening events too long. So this week you get two! Hope you all enjoy.

Corvo knew he was right to worry. Not once in five years had the Outsider touched him. Then, last night the god grabbed his wrist, shoved his chest, and commanded “Go!” Now he was… here. Something terrible had happened.

The two of them drew curious stares from staff and visitors alike, but there was no time to worry about gossip at a time like this. They needed to find somewhere private. The office of the Royal Spymaster was designed to be resistant to prying eyes and ears. It would serve nicely.

Corvo steered his charge down into the private space. Spymaster Umbridge was, as usual, not in. He closed the heavy doors and angled audiophones towards the hallway and window. The soft noise would obscure any conversation within the room.

The young man—the Outsider— stood motionless in the center of the room with arms wrapped around himself.

“How is this possible?” Corvo asked. “Are you really human?”

“I appear to be, yes.” His voice was distant, but not in a way that spoke of detached fascination.

“I had no idea you could leave the Void,” Corvo said, amazed.

The Outsider met his gaze with wary eyes. “Nor did I.”

“So, this is an accident? What happened last night?”

The Outsider glanced around the room, head cocked and brows furrowed, as if he were trying to remember something. “Is this the Spymaster’s office?”

“It has thick walls,” Corvo assured him. “No one will overhear us.”

The Outsider walked a circuit of the room, stopping to lift curtains and tapestries as he passed. In the rear corner of the office, he lifted a red velvet hanging, and found an audiograph player switched to Record. It was being fed from a long roll of cardstock.

“Spymaster Umbridge records all of his meetings,” the Outsider said. He switched the machine off and tore the punch-card free. “Self-interest is his only area of competence. He uses private conversations to blackmail nobles and servants.” He casually handed the card over to Corvo. “We should burn this.”

Corvo’s blood went cold. “You knew about this and never told— does he have any more of these?”

“None that I am aware of.” The Outsider refused to meet Corvo’s eyes.

“You mean you don’t know for certain? I thought you were omniscient. What’s going on?” Corvo demanded.

“I barely escaped,” he said, voice low and disbelieving. The Outsider began pacing the floor and his hands twitched tightly at his sides. “Someone is responsible for this. I felt a presence before the shockwave hit.”

“Shockwave?” Corvo placed a large steadying hand on the Outsider’s very tangible shoulder, and squeezed to keep him still. “Just before you shoved me I saw the edges of the Void beginning to darken. Was there some sort of explosion after that?”

The Outsider shut his eyes and nodded.

Corvo took the other shoulder in hand and gently spun the Outsider around to face him. “You saved my life, didn’t you? If you hadn’t sent me away when you did I would have been killed.”

And Emily would have been left alone in this den of wolves.

“I was nearly… _killed_ , Corvo.” The color drained from the Outsider’s already pale face and his green eyes went wide and unfocused. “Someone tried to kill… _me_.”

Corvo caught the Outsider just as he collapsed.

* * *

It was warm and soft now. Quiet.

The Outsider hummed in contentment as strong fingers combed through his hair. When the hand retreated he turned his face to follow it, but felt only empty space.

His eyes fluttered open to the sight of an unfamiliar room, and Corvo Attano seated next to his bed.

“There’s no fever.” Corvo cleared his throat. He rose quickly and poured a glass of water. “Drink this. Sokolov says you’re exhausted, but otherwise healthy.”

The Outsider choked on the water. “Sokolov examined me?”

“He’s the Royal Physician. There was no one else to go to when you collapsed.” Corvo clearly understood the concern, however. “He didn’t find anything amiss, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re completely human.”

The Outsider hung his head. That knowledge was not a comfort.

“What did you tell him about me?” he asked. “He would have asked about the identity of his patient.”

Corvo sat beside the bed again. “I gave him your name and little else. I cited imperial security matters and asked for his discretion— not that we’ll get it. He seemed very interested in you. ”

The Outsider took a deep breath and pursed his lips. “Just what I need.”

“He only knows as much as you told the gate guards this morning. I had to tell him something,” Corvo said.

“I know,” the Outsider replied. “But having a man like Anton Sokolov interested in me, when I am vulnerable for the first time in millennia, is not ideal.” He threw back the plush comforter and froze. He was clad in a small pair of dark-colored briefs that were definitely not Wallace’s posthumous hand-me-downs.

“He did a thorough exam,” Corvo explained, color rising high on his cheeks. “I insisted on… those… for the sake of your modesty.”

“My young virgin flesh thanks you, Lord Protector,” the Outsider deadpanned.

Corvo rolled his eyes and motioned to the wardrobe on the far wall. “Officially, you’re here as a guest of Empress Emily. I’ll have to contrive a reason later. But this is your guest room, and I took the liberty of having some clothes brought to you.”

The Outsider pulled out a pair of simple navy blue pants, a white shirt, matching jacket, and black ankle boots in the correct size as well. Eerily, everything fit well enough as to appear tailored for him. Had someone taken measurements while he was unconscious? Such were the benefits of being a royal guest, he supposed.

He stared at his reflection for the second time that day and raised a steady hand to his face. Flesh. How strange to be like this again. He should be larger than this; vaster. He was supposed to be spread out. He should be twisting, twining, and flowing. Now, he was a single point in time and space. 

“We didn’t get to finish our discussion last time,” Corvo said, forcing the Outsider from his reflection.

Corvo motioned for him to sit at a small table in the corner near a window where someone had arranged a tray of bread and light cheeses. The sun was past its zenith. He must have been unconscious for hours.

“As much time as I’ve spent with you over the years, I admit I never really understood what you are,” said Corvo. “I suppose it’s my fault for never asking about the details. Obviously, some of my assumptions were wrong.”

The Outsider plated a few morsels for himself while he considered how to answer. There were some things about the Void that could not be explained. But he would have to tell Corvo something, and in terms a human could understand. He needed help.

“Most humans I make contact with bombard me with questions about my nature and the universe from the first moment.” The Outsider met Corvo’s eyes. “I never lied to you. But I allowed certain assumptions about omniscience to be made when it benefitted me. It is true that I saw and knew a great deal, but not everything.” He rolled a small piece of bread between his fingers. “Are you disappointed, Corvo?”

Corvo’s eyes were soft and his smile warm. “It’s strange, but no. I’m not disappointed by that in the least.” 

The Outsider cast his gaze down towards his plate, unsure how to respond.

“Talk to me, Ceòl,” Corvo pleaded.

The Outsider’s chest tightened upon hearing his name again. Corvo hadn’t uttered it since the first time in the Void. To hear it spoken aloud now made his stomach turn.

_Ceòl_. That was his name again. That is _who_ he was again.

“Obviously you came to me for a reason,” Corvo continued. “You were at the gates within hours of leaving the Void. You didn’t seek out any of your worshippers. I know you have other Marked people. But you chose to come here.”

The Outsider, Ceòl, leaned back and considered this. “You bear my Mark, but you have never worshipped me; not even when you built the shrine. Despite appearances, that was not an act of obeisance.”

Corvo held his gaze, unwavering. “Are _you_ disappointed?”

“Not at all. That is why I’m here. Everyone else I could have sought for help would have wanted something: a great boon or new power. I am in no position to give either.”

Corvo did not argue.

“I saved your life earlier, you said as much yourself. So, I am owed, am I not?” Ceòl added, almost an aside. 

Corvo’s face pinched in consideration. “You don’t need to remind me. I’m just not sure what it is you’re asking.”

Ceòl leaned forward on his elbows. “Help me return to the Void.”

Corvo stared at him, still and expectant.

“It is imperative that it not remain empty for too long,” he elaborated.But Corvo seemed to hesitate.

“What happens if you don’t go back?” Corvo asked.

“The Void is…” Ceòl considered his words carefully- “complex.” An understatement if there ever was one. “But, among other things, it is the source of magic in your world. That is why the Mark still works, despite my situation.”

He watched Corvo flex his hand. Through the wrapping, there was a faint glow.

“The Mark connects you to the Void, Corvo. I was connected to the Void. So, when I said the Mark connected you to me, that was true at the time. But without someone to bring balance, magic will become increasingly unstable.” Among other things. But he needn’t worry Corvo with the scale of the possible calamity.

“It won’t happen overnight. It could take years or even several human lifetimes.” Ceòl shifted his gaze to the calm skies above the Tower. “That will depend on how unbalanced it is already. I can’t imagine the events of last night did us any favors. But there will be consequences for this world if the Void stays empty.”

Corvo’s face fell. “What do you need me to do?”

“Help me find out who is responsible for this. Someone caused a violent magical backlash that would have destroyed me completely if this small piece of myself hadn’t managed to escape.” Ceòl looked contemplatively at his hands, still ill-at-ease in human form.

“So, the rest of you is still back in the Void?” Corvo asked.

Ceòl shook his head. “Yes and no. I was dispersed like a drop of blood in the ocean. The rest of me is back there, yes, but it cannot be recovered.”

He leaned back in his chair, feeling lightness in his head. The reality of the situation settled into Ceòl’s bones— his very human bones.

“‘The Outsider,’ as you knew him, is dead. I am what remains.”

“Dead?” Corvo whispered, unbelieving.

Ceòl began to tremble again as he relived the memory of being stretched thin and unmade. Dead. But he could become the Outsider again. Resolute, Ceòl continued.

“We need to understand what happened and who is responsible. And once we determine that and deal with the perpetrator, I’ll need your assistance to reenter the Void. There is… a ritual.”

“That sound ominous,” Corvo said, voice tight and hoarse.

Ceòl thinned his lips and stared down at his lap. “I doubt it will offend your delicate morals given what’s at stake.” 

“I’ll help you however I can, but I won’t paint Dunwall with blood to do it,” Corvo warned.

“You think me so boring?” Ceòl raised his eyes to meet Corvo’s. “I’m offended.”

Corvo laughed mirthlessly to himself. “I don’t know what to think. I’ve known for some time that you’re not ‘evil’ but you’ve never been concerned with human suffering. Plus, you’re acting…”

Ceòl raised a dark eyebrow in Corvo’s direction.

“Different.”

“I _am_ different,” Ceòl gritted through his teeth. Did Corvo not understand?

“You’re trembling again,” Corvo said, and placed a strong hand on Ceòl’s wrist. “Are you alright?”

“Alright? I am terrified!” Ceòl ripped his hand away and pushed back from the small table with enough force to topple the chair behind his legs. “All that made me who I am, was torn away in an instant! And for all the knowledge and power at my disposal, I never even saw it coming. How long did it take to stop _trembling_ when the same happened to you?”

For that, Corvo had no response.

* * *

Corvo walked the halls of the Tower with a robotic gait and hollow gaze. Dead. His friend died last night? But that wasn’t right. Not truly. The Outsider was still alive. He was staying in the guest wing.

He left the Outsider— Ceòl, Corvo reminded himself. He’d need to get used to using the human name even though the young man flinched when he heard it said aloud — with strict instructions not to leave his room until Corvo returned to him that evening with a cover story and a plan. Whatever he was before, Ceòl was human now and Sokolov did order a full day of bed rest. By the time Corvo had been forced to take leave of him, Ceòl was snoring softly beneath warm blankets.

“Exhaustion” as a medical diagnosis was typically reserved for extreme circumstances: Sailors stranded at sea and rescued after days with no food, or women who struggled for countless hours to bring their child into the world. Sokolov was confused about how a young man, without so much as a pin prick on his fair skin, could have been similarly drained. The magic that reshaped the Outsider into Ceòl as he left the Void obviously took a toll; and he had indeed been reshaped.

With the exception of those striking eyes, his friend’s face was unmistakably the same, if a few years younger than he had appeared in the Void. There, the Outsider bore the form of a man in his 20s, strong and fully grown. There, he was confident and knowing. Here, Ceòl was a young man in the awkward early stages of adulthood, grown but not yet filled out. Here, he was vulnerable.

The only explanation Ceòl had been able to come up with for the difference in appearance was, “I am a reflection, perhaps. In the Void I Saw and Knew. I had power. And thus, I appeared as a man. As I faced my end and clamored for safety… I was not.”

“No one ever is,” Corvo had replied.

He’d spent five years getting to know the Outsider, as well as any human could know him. Now there were so many questions. Were any of Corvo’s assumptions about him correct? But it seemed cruel to prod at the issue while Ceòl was still traumatized by his unexpected humanity. The questions could wait for now. Finding answers was their priority.

Corvo found Emily as she left her last tutor of the day, and relieved her guards. It was time for the afternoon meeting with Geoff Curnow, Captain of the City Watch. The young empress was still being trained to rule, but her presence at these meetings was important. She needed to learn about the details of the Empire’s operations, and others had to learn to respect her.

Everyone obeyed Empress Emily, of course. But there was a difference between obedience and genuine respect. Emily was still young, a mere sixteen. It wasn’t easy for grown men to take orders from a girl who had fewer years of life than they had experience on the job. But Emily knew her limitations and always listened to her advisors. If anything, she deferred to them more was needed. And with her newfound fear of public speaking, people were beginning to whisper. 

The first meeting went as expected. Captain Curnow was courteous and to the point. Patrols in the recovering districts saw the worst petty and violent crime, but in the last year they were finally starting to see a small downturn. Whale oil theft was still a problem in the industrial areas.

Lastly, there had been a few incidents with the City Watch and the Overseers locking horns over jurisdiction when an arrest for a worldly crime revealed evidence of “heresy.” Usually, these incidents involved a bone charm or some other forbidden occult item found in the guilty person’s possession during processing. That’s where it got messy. The Abbey was supposed to be alerted about such discoveries. However, the City Watch looked the other way in some cases.

“I know the Overseers have a job to do, but this is becoming a nuisance,” Curnow said, rubbing his temples. “A _lot_ of people carry those things now. I’m not even convinced half the ones we find are real. Charlatans have started selling chunks of bone with nonsense carved on them to the stupid and desperate. Obviously there’s an overlap between them and the people we end up arresting.”

“Surely the Overseers can tell the difference between an authentic item and some junk,” said Corvo.

“Well yes, but they don’t care. Even if the charm is harmless, they throw their weight around. ‘Intent to worship’ is just a bad a crime in their eyes.” Curnow hesitated, then added, “I don’t disagree.”

Corvo raised an eyebrow in his direction. As expected, Curnow said nothing. Corvo saved Geoff Curnow’s life five years ago when High Overseer Campbell tried to have him killed, and he witnessed Corvo’s supernatural abilities in the process. But, since a personal debt was owed, he remained silent on the matter.

Corvo nodded for Curnow to continue.

“My men have started looking the other way when they’re absolutely certain the items are counterfeit and, for the sake of efficiency, I allow it. There are just too many to bother with.” He sighed. “But now, Overseers have caught on and started following my men on their patrols. They claim they’re ‘offering assistance’ should any heretics show up.”

“They are overstepping,” Corvo said through a tightened jaw. The Abbey was in a fragile state, and erratic behavior like this did not bode well.

“Agreed. And it’s causing fights. The last thing people need is to see the Watch and the Abbey at each other’s throats.”

Emily sat, observing and listening, but not offering an opinion. 

The meeting concluded with a promise from the young empress to speak to High Overseer Windham about the boundary between City Watch and Overseer authority. Curnow didn’t look hopeful, but thanked her and excused himself with a salute.

Their next meeting was with the Royal Spymaster, Dominic Umbridge. Things went sour almost immediately.

“Your Highness.” The Royal Spymaster greeted Emily with an exaggerated bow and toothy grin. “And Lord Protector, I do hope your young companion is well. I heard he collapsed in my office earlier.”

So, Umbridge had been back to his office. He must have checked his audiograph and found that morning’s recordings missing. He was going to get straight to it then. At least Emily had gotten better about maintaining a facade of knowledgeable indifference. Her face didn’t advertise her ignorance of the new guest.

“Thank you for your concern, Spymaster Umbridge. The young man is exhausted from his travels, but otherwise well,” Corvo said.

“Yes, the Royal Physician told me as much. I’m glad to hear he will recovery quickly. I can’t imagine what might have happened if he’d collapsed in the streets. I heard he caused quite the ruckus at the front gates.”

Corvo had a few cover stories in mind for Ceòl, but he needed more time to consider them. There was no choice but to commit to a story now.

“Yes, he was very upset. He sailed into harbor yesterday, but was set upon by robbers. His credentials and money were stolen. Thankfully, he met some good samaritans and got here safely.”

The story was full of holes. But Corvo was on the spot.

“It’s a relief that there are still good people in Dunwall, isn’t it? Embarrassing for the guards, since he was an expected guest and they denied him entry.” Umbridge paused and raised a hand to his chin. “He _was_ an expected guest, wasn’t he, Lord Protector?”

Shit. There was that.

“It was a secret!” Emily blurted out.

These were the first words she’d spoken in the meeting so far. Both men turned to look at her, questions heavy on their tongues.

“That is…” Emily continued, eyes cast down and nervous. “No one was supposed to know he was coming. Going to the gates wasn’t the plan. But then with the robbers and…” She fidgeted in a way Corvo hadn’t seen since her childhood. “So he missed the meeting and had to come here.”

Corvo wondered where she was going with this.

“Of course, if Your Highness was aware of his arrival…” Umbridge faltered. “But as Royal Spymaster I should have been informed. If some sort of secret rendezvous was arranged, I should know for what purpose.”

Corvo’s sword hand itched. Umbridge was salivating at the idea of forcing a secret from his empress.

Emily looked at the Spymaster with tears in her eyes. It would have been heartbreaking if they were genuine, but Corvo knew that face. She was playing it up.

“Please don’t tell anyone, but…” She took a deep breath. “I hired a new tutor. To fill in the gaps where music would be. But he’s not really a music instructor. He’s an oration coach.”

“A… what?” Umbridge asked. Corvo voiced the same question with his eyes.

“I asked Corvo not to say anything. Please don’t be angry at him.” She looked to Corvo, eyes asking for guidance. He just smiled and nodded for her continue.

“It’s no secret that my speeches in Parliament are… not good. It’s important that I make a good impression, but I didn’t want to look weak by asking for help. So, I arranged this in secret.”

Corvo radiated gratitude and pride. It was a good story. He hadn’t wanted to involve Emily in any subterfuge, or else a new music instructor would have been the perfect cover for Ceòl. But since she’d just volunteered… 

“I apologize for not informing you, Spymaster Umbridge,” Corvo said. “But the Empress insisted on discretion. I asked the same of the Royal Physician.”

The Spymaster puffed his chest with victory. “Oh, don’t be too hard on old Sokolov. I asked him for the details personally, and he could hardly refuse Her Majesty’s most trusted councilor.”

Both Emily and Corvo had to restrain their eyes from rolling.

“Of course,” Corvo agreed. “But the Empress would ask for _your_ discretion from this point forward. The young man will stay in the Tower as the music instructor Emily has been lacking.”

~~~~~~~~

The meeting continued on as normal, with Umbridge relaying barely coherent reports and faulty intelligence. Sometimes Corvo wondered if he knew his position was ornamental. If he did, he didn’t seem to care, and was happy reaping the rewards of his position without contributing to the Empire. 

After taking their leave of Umbridge, Corvo escorted Emily to the private dining room. They ate in silence until the servants were out of earshot.

“Thank you for before,” he murmured, eyes open for any approaching servers.

“You’re welcome, Corvo.” Emily hesitated a moment, then added, “I hope that was alright. It was the only thing I could think of.”

Corvo smiled fondly. “It was perfect. That was very quick thinking. I couldn’t have done better myself.”

She dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin to hide her shy smile. “Is he one of your spies?”

“I— it’s not exactly…” How long had Emily known about his unofficial work?

“It’s alright. I won’t tell anyone. I hope my story doesn’t complicate things for him. If he has to leave suddenly, I’ll say I fired him.”

Corvo reached underneath the table and squeezed her hand. “That will be very helpful.”

“It feels good to be useful for something,” she mumbled to herself.

Corvo’s heart sank. “What do you mean? You’re the most useful person in the Empire.”

Her tight smile and nod of agreement was less than convincing. “Of course. Forget I mentioned it. Will I see him tomorrow to keep up appearances? I suppose I should have thought of that before. I hope I haven’t ruined—”

“Emily!” Corvo said sharply. How long has this self-doubt been eating at her? Where was it coming from? “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured her. “And, for the sake of appearances, you probably should be seen meeting with him so we can maintain the story. I’ll speak with him tonight and let him know.”

“Is it an important mission?” she asked. “Why he’s here, I mean?”

Corvo looked out the window to the sky and the sun setting on the horizon. Everything looked normal. For now.

“Yes. He brought me some information today.”

He considered saying no more, but Emily already felt so ornamental herself. He never wanted her to feel that way.

“It regards happenings from outside the Empire,” he whispered at last. “Things that perhaps aren’t an immediate threat, but could become so in time. And we’re working together to deal with this new development. I’d tell you more if I could but—”

Emily held up a hand. “It’s alright. I understand.” She rose with practiced grace and excused herself, signaling the guards in the hallway to escort her to her chambers.

Corvo wondered when his little girl had become so passive. It must have been sometime between her second abduction and the first direct attempt on her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me on tumblr[ @soontobecyborg](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/)
> 
> 1,000 thanks to [akfedeau](http://archiveofourown.org/users/akfedeau/pseuds/akfedeau) for beta-reading for me!


	4. Chapter 4

It was well after midnight by the time Corvo returned to Ceòl’s room.

Once his duties as Royal Protector had ended for the day, he’d had to slip out of the Tower to pick up a dead drop with information about one of the remaining Ladies Boyle. It seemed Lydia was remodeling the antechamber of the main house with gold and crystal. Even with the family’s massive fortune, opulence like that should have been beyond their means in the post-plague economy. Money was coming from somewhere the Boyle’s hadn’t publicly disclosed, nor paid taxes on. That would be a headache for another day.

Corvo rapped lightly on the door of the guest room, but there was no answer from within. Perhaps whatever magic had created Ceòl had been undone. He hesitated for a moment, fearing that if he opened the door he would find the room empty. But, when he eased his way inside, he found Ceòl exactly where he’d left him that afternoon, sleeping soundly with blankets pulled up to his graceful neck. He truly was exhausted.

There was an untouched tray of food on the small bedside table, probably placed there by a servant earlier in the evening.Corvo considered turning around and leaving. If the Outsider—Ceòl— needed his rest, he should take it. But they had things to discuss. Perhaps, if he waited just a few more minutes…

Ceòl’s eyes darted beneath their lids. He was dreaming then. Corvo wondered if the former god was able to reach the Void in his dreams. Did the Void reach out on its own? Or was that only the doing of the Outsider?

Corvo sank into the chair beside the bed and watched him sleep. He felt more than little guilty for staring, and yet he couldn’t look away. Seeing the Outsider in human form was so surreal. The desire to reach out and run his fingers through the dark hair on Ceòl’s head— under the pretense of “checking for a fever”— had been impossible to resist that afternoon, and he’d nearly been caught in the act as Ceòl woke.

But Corvo resisted the temptation now, and settled in to wait for his friend to wake from his dreams.

* * *

The door to the guest room burst open and Overseers poured through in waves. Swords and pistols drawn, the men surrounded his bed before Ceòl could shake loose the remnants of sleep.

“Heretic!” one shouted. “Arrest him!”

He was pulled from the nest of warm blankets by the collar of his jacket and dragged through the halls of the Abbey at Whitecliff.

An Empress sat in the shadows upon a throne of thorns.

He was roughly kicked to his hands and knees before the High Overseer, a man’s whose face sneered more cruelly than any of his brethren’s masks.

“These two are accused of heresy!” one of the Overseers exclaimed.

Two?

An unconscious Corvo was dumped beside him. His handsome face was bloodied and bruised. His fingers were broken and twisted, yet somehow he still clutched a Rune tightly tightly to his chest.

“He refused to renounce the Outsider!” proclaimed another Overseer. “Even now he refuses to let him go!”

A black boot connected with Corvo’s vulnerable ribs, and there was a sharp crack. Broken. Corvo’s breathing became labored and wet. A punctured lung.

“He can’t breathe!” Ceòl shouted. “Pull him up! He can’t breathe!”

One of the Overseers stepped forward and grabbed Corvo roughly by his hair. He was dragged into the shadows as Ceòl reached for him.

Then the Overseers turned their attention to him.

Their gloved hands tore away his clothing with brutal efficiency. Every inch of his skin was poked and examined while he flinched away from every touch. But no beating came. Instead, he was lifted onto a great altar of granite and bone. There was a large basin in the middle, big enough for a person.

Ceòl thrashed about wildly, kicking and biting. His hands and feet were chained to iron rings set into the bottom corners of the basin.

“Not again. Please, not again,” he begged. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

The basin was filled with buckets of saltwater. Inch by terrifying inch, he was swallowed up.

“Pull me up! I can’t breathe!” He sputtered, mouth and nose barely above the rising surface. “I can’t—”

One last gulp of air.

He knew it had to happen. This is what was supposed to be. But the knowledge didn’t make the burn of his lungs any less agonizing. It did nothing to abate the fear of death. It didn’t fill the hole in his chest where Corvo was supposed to be.

His struggles grew weaker as the inevitable took hold. Just as he fell into darkness, Ceòl opened his mouth. Underneath the water, he took a breath.

* * *

Ceòl gasped and strained but his limbs wouldn’t move. Strong hands gripped his face and someone called his name.

A thumb swiped softly over his lips and Ceòl bit down hard.

“Ow!” a deep voice exclaimed. “Ceòl, what in the— calm down! It was just a dream!”

His vision cleared and Ceòl found himself in a slightly less terrible reality than the one he just visited. A dream. He had not missed those.

Still breathing heavily, he looked over to the thumb Corvo was nursing between his lips.

“Don’t worry about it,” Corvo sighed. “My fault for having it within range. I’ve seen enough sailors and soldiers wake up thrashing from nightmares to know better.”

Ceòl sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. He knew enough about the nature of dreams to interpret what he saw and deal with it rationally. He just needed a minute to calm down. He practiced taking deep breaths, counted the number of seconds it took to fill his lungs, and then released the air at an equal pace. This used to work. He hoped it would again.

The feeling of warm skin on his back jerked him from his concentration and Ceòl whipped his head around.

Corvo rubbed his uninjured hand gently, almost nervously, across Ceòl’s naked shoulders.

“Is this alright?” Corvo asked him. 

Ceòl nodded with more enthusiasm than he intended, and leaned eagerly into the touch. He was surprised to find himself starved for contact. Ceòl hated to need it, but the logical part of him acknowledged that he was different now. To deny himself what he needed would only weaken him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Corvo asked. His hand glided smoothly across the planes of Ceòl’s back. “Sometimes it helps.”

“I know that, Corvo,” Ceòl said with a shaky sigh. “I remember how to be human.”

The hand running up and down his spine paused briefly, but quickly resumed its path.

Ceòl chastised himself. He just gave something away. He really must be rattled.

“Very well. I dreamed the Overseers found me. It wasn’t clear if they knew who I was but they were screaming about heresy. As they do. You were there. They beat you until they punctured your lungs and dragged you off into the darkness as you died. Then…”

Ceòl shivered with pleasure as Corvo’s fingers found their way to his scalp.

“Then?”

“Then it was my turn. I don’t want to discuss the rest, but do not stop what you’re doing either.”

“Alright,” said Corvo. “I’ll keep this up if you keep talking to me.”

“I never knew Corvo Attano, honorable Royal Protector, was also a master manipulator.”

Ceòl felt the low, rumbling laugh in Corvo’s chest reverberate through his back, and his eyelids fluttered shut of their own volition.

Corvo pulled off his boots and sat behind Ceòl on the bed for better access to his neck. “So, how do you suggest we begin our investigation?” 

As Corvo methodically worked out all the tension in his body, Ceòl laid out his list of possible suspects.

First was the Abbey of the Everyman. They had ample motive, since their very purpose was to oppose the dreaded Outsider. However, they forbid the use of any and all magic, and he was fairly certain that the backlash he experienced in the Void was magical in origin. Of course, this wouldn’t rule out the hypocrisy of using magic to fight magic. History was full of examples of fanatics acting against their supposed beliefs in an attempt to fulfill them.

Still, as the Outsider, he had watched the Abbey with a wary eye. They weren’t a serious threat, but he knew better than to take his eyes off of them for too long. Still, to the best of his knowledge, they weren’t close to developing anything that could seriously endanger him or the Void. The music boxes that stopped magic users were the worst the Abbey had at their disposal currently.

Next, they had to consider the Academy of Natural Philosophy. Again, the Outsider had kept an interested eye on that institution and was aware of any major breakthroughs that were heralded within its halls; not that he could see everything or everyone. At the Academy, people dedicated themselves to developing the miraculous, and research was carried out with strict secrecy.

Ceòl hated to admit it, but he may have underestimated one of its lesser members. Anton Sokolov and Piero Joplin were the two geniuses he concerned himself with primarily— Sokolov, because Ceòl knew exactly what that man was capable of, and Piero because he was far harder to predict and just as gifted.

“I doubt this was Piero,” Ceòl said, words half-slurred in relaxation as Corvo found a spot on his lower back that was knotted with tension. “I keep him far too busy, and always with projects that are unlikely to threaten me.”

Corvo’s hands paused in their work and Ceòl barely stopped himself from releasing a needy whine from within his throat.

“Wait, you visit Piero in his dreams to… to keep him from becoming a threat to you?”

Ceòl looked over his shoulder and met Corvo’s gaze with a coy look. “He is far more interesting than Sokolov. But interesting is rarely safe. So, I paid him special attention and kept him occupied with epiphanies.”

“Could you have been wrong about how occupied he was?” Corvo asked.

“Obviously, I was very wrong about something,” Ceòl whispered, as Corvo’s hands moved to his shoulders.

“Could it have been someone closer to you?”

Ceòl eased himself forward and turned around to face Corvo. He hated to end the massage, but needed to focus.

“Could it have been one of my Marked or even a very powerful magic user? Yes. But I watch them closest of all. I have already considered everyone with both the motive and opportunity. There are no obvious candidates.” He pulled his lower lips between his teeth, an old habit. “I may ask you to perform a few subtle inquiries into certain individuals, if we find nothing wrong with the Abbey or the Academy.”

His eyes strayed to the mark on Corvo’s hand, hidden beneath its wrapping. “The only one of my Marked who had both the ability and desire to attempt magic of this caliber is several years dead. Otherwise, I would know exactly where to begin.”

Though the curiosity was painted clearly on Corvo’s face, he didn’t ask for details. He never asked about the other Marked, Ceòl realized.

“How long before one of them notices you missing?” Corvo wondered aloud.

Ceòl shrugged. “They won’t.”

Corvo’s perplexed expression prompted him to elaborate.

“So long as their magic still works, they won’t have any reason to think something is wrong. Which is for the best. If they knew what you know now…” He reached for Corvo’s hand and pulled the wrapping back to reveal the hidden symbols beneath.

“Won’t they realize something is wrong when you stop visiting them?”

“How often do you think I show myself, Corvo? It will be months before they notice, and years before they think it odd. Although, we should not wait that long to return me to the Void.” Ceòl drew his fingers back and sighed.

“Alright, so we start with the big two. I can talk to Sokolov and Piero about the Academy’s recent experiments. Whatever secrets one doesn’t tell me, the other will. Emily is scheduled to meet with High Overseer Windham at the end of next week. His men have been overstepping their authority with the Watch, searching for heretics.” Corvo’s face broke into a grin. “Oh! She did some quick thinking today.”

Corvo laid out what happened in the meeting with the spymaster and explained Emily’s cover for him.

“So I am a spy, pretending to be an oration coach, who is pretending to be a music instructor.” Ceòl cocked his head and suppressed a wry smile. “I must say, Corvo, that is more complicated than I expected. And from Emily, no less. How—”

“If you say ‘fascinating’ I will jump out that window,” Corvo laughed and turned towards the night sky. His face fell. “It’s only a few hours until dawn and I haven’t even slept yet.” Corvo rose slowly from the bed and pulled his boots on.

Ceòl rose as well, clad only in loose sleeping pants, and walked him to the door. They stood face-to-face, and he was struck by the difference in their height now. Corvo stood at least half a head taller than him now.

Ceòl cleared his throat when he realized he’d been staring.

“And what time is my first music lesson with Emily?”

“Three o’clock. We’ll have to figure out some excuse as to why there’s no music coming from the room, I suppose.”

“No excuses needed, Corvo.” He grinned. “I know a few songs.”

* * *

Ceòl paced around his room after Corvo left, resisting the urge to crawl back into the warm bed. He’d spent most of his day outside the Void in a state of unconsciousness already. But the sleep had done him some good. He was calmer and more grounded.

He still felt the thrumming anxiety in his core, but he was no longer shaking apart at the seams. He felt more settled in his human form now. Having Corvo nearby helped.

He could still feel the phantom of those strong hands on his neck and back, running through his hair, and kneading his scalp with pressure that was firm enough to still his panic, but gentle enough to make every nerve sing.

Ceòl realized that perhaps he should have offered to reciprocate. When had the Royal Protector last been touched with any affection? Humans required touch and displays of emotional intimacy for their mental health, though some more than others. It was chemical, like the need for food and sleep. Corvo hadn’t experienced any such comforts since Jessamine.

He hung his head and worried at his lower lip again. He’d focused too much of his attention on Corvo Attano in the last few years. As a result, he missed something important and was nearly destroyed. He chastised himself for the carelessness, but didn’t regret the time spent with Corvo either.

That investment had paid off, after all. They had a strong connection and when this unexpected catastrophe occurred, Corvo was there. He could be trusted not to take advantage of this new helplessness in a way few others could be. The man was a protector both in title and by nature. Having him as an ally was useful.

Ally. It had been more than that for some time. 

Ceòl sighed and picked at the cold food by his bed. This situation was temporary. He could only guess at the state of increasing chaos in the Void. Whether it was unraveling slowly at the edges or crumbling quickly from within would depend on many different factors, none of which he could gauge at the moment.

He would need help from the Academy’s machines. He needed to gather proper intelligence before his return. If he rushed back in without knowing as much as possible about the situation, it could be his last mistake. 

* * *

Back in his room, Corvo collapsed on the bed, hoping to sleep a few precious hours before Emily woke.

But he could calm neither his body nor his mind after the hours spent with Ceòl. His head spun with possible contacts and contingencies. Investigating two of the most dangerous institutions in Gristol— both of which would carve him up for study given the opportunity— was reason enough to keep him awake.

But that wasn’t the only reason sleep eluded him.

In the Void, Corvo had kept whatever he felt for the Outsider strictly hypothetical. The Outsider was the closest thing he’d had to a friend ever since Emily’s ascension to the throne. At first, he’d blamed the strange attraction on loneliness and fascination. He wasn’t fool enough to deny what he felt, but he was content to let things stay as they were. At least, he had been in the beginning. The more time they spent together, the more Corvo thought it meant something… else.

It could have been wishful thinking, but then the Outsider— Ceòl, he reminded himself— chose to come to him in his time of need. The speed with which Ceòl made his way to the Tower, to Corvo, spoke volumes.

Corvo’s right hand, the one without the bitten thumb, wandered down his abdomen. He was still solid and well-sculpted, but he was in his mid-40s now. He wasn’t in the same condition of his twenties, or even thirties.

His hand paused at the waist of his pants and he considered doing something to ease his tension.

He wasn’t hard right now, but he had been rather erect less than an hour ago, while his hands roamed across Ceòl’s gorgeously-proportioned back. He was the kind of lovely that Corvo rarely saw in other men; slender and graceful, but unmistakably masculine.

Ceòl had been so responsive to touch, shivering and moaning with even the lightest pressure. Corvo wondered if Ceòl had any idea what those noises sounded like, or the effect they had. Perhaps so. He did say “I remember how to be human.” And since Ceòl had been unaware that leaving the Void or taking a human body was even possible, that could mean only one thing.

The Outsider was born a human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me on tumblr[ @soontobecyborg](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/)
> 
> 1,000 thanks to [akfedeau](http://archiveofourown.org/users/akfedeau/pseuds/akfedeau) for beta-reading for me!


	5. Chapter 5

Gossip at Dunwall Tower spread quickly.

The kitchen servant who brought Ceòl the morning meal— he was still under physician’s orders to rest in his room until mid-day— asked a few leading questions about how he’d slept. The maid who served him lunch asked if he needed his sheets changed. They were not subtle.

Someone saw Corvo either entering or leaving his room last night.

Ceòl agreed politely to new linens, if only to prove his were clean. The rumors didn’t bother him, but Corvo was under enough scrutiny from the Abbey as it was. Being accused of violating the Sixth Stricture wouldn’t do him any favors.

Corvo came to him at half past two, with a light knock and a nervous smile. Ceòl felt the corners of his own mouth curl upwards without permission. But as soon as they were in the main corridors, full of servants and officials, both men schooled their features into masks of professionalism.

They arrived at the Music Room long before Emily. Ceòl watched as Corvo searched the area for threats and recording devices. He lifted curtains and checked for secret panels. He found nothing, but the tension in his shoulders did not ease. No possibility was underestimated when Corvo was on duty.

Ceòl smiled as Corvo’s eyes clouded over minutely, then snapped into focus with blown pupils. It had been years since Corvo used these abilities. He was taking their situation very seriously if he chose to break the self-imposed ban on using supernatural gifts. He stared at the walls, through the floors, and into the ceilings. Finally, Corvo shook his head and his eyes returned to normal.

Satisfied with the safety of the room, Corvo briefed Ceòl on his plans for the afternoon.

Corvo had arranged back-to-back meetings with Sokolov and Piero during Emily’s private lesson. Both men were unaware the other had been called. This way, Corvo hoped to find out what each of them was working on, either from their own lips or from their rival.

Ceòl took the opportunity to write down a few key questions he needed the scholars to answer. He also had some equipment requests. In particular, he would need a machine that Piero began building several years ago, but later abandoned. The machine was designed to measure the various waves of energy emanating from the Void, and it would have led to remarkable breakthroughs. However, Piero became plagued with terrible nightmares in which Sokolov stole the designs and was credited with all of the discoveries it revealed. The dream tormented Piero until he became so paranoid about security, he locked it away.

But now, Ceòl needed the device in order to assess the state of the Void.

“You made sure he never finished it,” Corvo guessed. “His machine would have become a threat?”

“In time, and in the wrong hands, yes,” Ceòl replied. “Though its existence does serve a purpose now.”

Ceòl sketched out a rough schematic of the device’s inner workings, as well as the formulas relevant to its function, and handed it over to Corvo. Ceòl tried not to look smug when Corvo’s eyes widened at the dizzying array of symbols and numbers on the paper. He may be human again, but he was a human with millennia of memories and knowledge.

“But you let the Abbey create those damn music boxes? I hate those awful things.”

Ceòl shrugged and waved his hand dismissively. “Direct interference creates ripples; stop one event here and something unexpected happens there. Unexpected things can be interesting and fun to watch. But other times, it is best to leave things be.”

As the Outsider, he had never been confronted by Corvo about the indirect role he played in Jessamine’s death. But Ceòl could tell from the darkening behind his eyes, that Corvo’s mind strayed to it now. Her memory hung heavy between them. It probably always would.

Ceòl moved to the large open windows and stared into the courtyard below. Empress Emily Kaldwin rounded a corner, trailed by two members of her personal guard. She looked more like a prisoner being led to a cell than an empress commanding her guards.

“Is there anything else I should know going into these meetings?” Corvo’s brows knitted with worry as he watched Emily below. “Anything you know from before that you failed to inform me of?”

“In regards to the Academy? No.”

Corvo let out a tired sigh. “In regards to _anything_ , then.” His eyes trailed after Emily as she made her way across the yard. “Can her guards be trusted?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “It took me years to find men that passed muster. And every day, I wonder if this is the day betrayal strikes again. Can you at least tell me that?” Corvo was stiff and still.

Ceòl’s face softened. “As far as I know, the men you have chosen for her are loyal.”

“‘As far as you know?’” Corvo hissed. “You knew about Umbridge’s office recordings and said nothing until it suited you. How many times was I secretly recorded in that room while you never said a word?”

Ceòl was taken aback by the shift on Corvo’s mood.

“It wasn’t relevant to the larger picture until yesterday, and I knew you were too intelligent to say anything incriminating in front of him. I mentioned it as soon as it become important.”The corners of his mouth pulled downwards. “I don’t understand why are you are suddenly cross with me.”

“I just don’t want to have to ask you, every day, if there is anything else I should know.” The corners of Corvo’s eyes wrinkled with exasperation. “I want you to volunteer information if I am going trust you.”

“I will volunteer information when and if it becomes necessary.” Ceòl took a small, confident step into Corvo’s space. “And you are angry at _yourself_ for being secretly recorded. If you had used your supernatural vision even once in that room, you would have noticed the audiograph.” Ceòl crossed his arms over his chest and looked Corvo in the eyes. “Don’t refuse to use the tools at your disposal, and then snap at me when your life is unnecessarily difficult. And as far as your ability to trust me…”

Ceòl turned his head at the sound of an approaching entourage at the end of the corridor. Footsteps quickened as servants made themselves look busy before bowing dutifully. Emily was close.

Ceòl held his pointed chin high.

“You are about to leave me alone in a room with your daughter,” he whispered. “You will worry every moment she is out of your sight, as you always do. But when you are wringing your hands with the fear that someone will harm her, wonder why it is you did not think to assign guards to the _inside_ of the room for today’s lesson.”

Ceòl stepped quickly out of a wide-eyed Corvo’s space as Emily entered the room, flanked by two guards. The men nodded to Corvo, then took their positions outside the doors.

“Hello, Corvo,” Emily chimed in greeting. Her eyes slid to Ceòl. “And you must be my new music instructor.”

Ceòl bowed gracefully, as he had seen countless others do over the years. “Empress, it a great honor to finally meet you in person. I am Ceòl.”

Corvo pulled closed the heavy doors to the room and turned to face them.

“Thank you again, Emily,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t prepared for Ceòl’s arrival yesterday.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I just hope this helps somehow.”

The clock on the wall chimed 3:00. Corvo glanced to the doors, then back to Emily. “There is a meeting I have to attend.” 

“You should leave through the window, Corvo. I know you trust me above all others,” Ceòl said, face barely containing his mischief, “but your guards will be in an uproar if they know the Royal Protector has left his charge alone with a total stranger.” He clasped a hand dramatically to his chest. “People will talk.”

Corvo grumbled something unflattering under his breath, but nodded. 

“I’ll be back before the lesson is over,” he promised Emily. “If not, make sure Ceòl doesn’t get lost on the way back to his room, hmm?”

Ceòl bristled. “Under house arrest? And after we had such a lovely chat.”

Corvo ignored him and stepped onto the balcony. The yard below was deserted now, but he glanced around to be safe. Once the coast was clear, Corvo turned back to Ceòl and Emily.

“I won’t be long,” Corvo said.

And with that, he blinked down to a lower ledge and from there, to the edge of the courtyard.

Emily’s eyes darted over Ceòl, carefully gauging his reaction to the miraculous sight.

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “I already knew about your father’s unique abilities.”

With that, her eyes went even wider.

“Ah, yes. I know about that too.”

Ceòl strolled over to the piano and ran his fingers over the keys. He had never played such an instrument, though the concept was easy enough to comprehend. He struck each key with a long finger, and memorized the note and its relative location on the board. It was perfectly in tune. Only the best for an empress.

Emily cast a shadow across the keys as she stood behind him, arms crossed and mouth downturned.

“Who are you?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other in a way that made her look young and uncertain. “Corvo doesn’t trust anyone. Ever.”

“That is to be expected, given his life experiences,” Ceòl replied. He began testing out a few simple melodies from memory, songs from civilizations long dead. He wondered if the winds would remember the tune and sing along.

“You can’t be more than a few years older than me.” Emily slowly sat down on the bench next to him. Her eyes were sharp, but her body was coiled with tension. “So you’re not old friends with him. Why does he trust you? Are you—” Her gaze fell to his blank hand.

“Sadly, no. I am not similarly gifted. Though, we do have some mutual acquaintances who are. We met through them, I suppose you could say.”

Ceòl’s fingers danced delicately over the keys now. They were tentative, but growing in confidence as the song came together, slow and longing.

“You could simply order me to tell you,” Ceòl suggested. “Why don’t you demand the secret details of my mission here?”

Emily’s laugh was cold and sad. “You’d only lie.”

“And why would you think that?” Ceòl’s innocent grin was practically mocking.

“Because everyone lies to a child.” Emily crossed her arms defensively. “And the most childish thing I can do is demand things by yelling ‘Obey me, I’m the empress.’ That’s why.”

Ceòl’s hands froze on the keys as he abandoned the song of sadness and longing. He changed tempo, and launched into something darker, like a slow march to war.

“Yes, I suppose you did learn that lesson earlier than most royals do.”

“Excuse me?” Emily said, voice low and tight.

“I mean, when you were abducted by your mother’s assassins.” Ceòl kept his tone light and conversational. “Or was it the Loyalists? No, it was first the one, then the other.” He continued playing softly, but turned his head to lock eyes with the empress. “Tell me, Emily. At what point did it truly dawn on you that your title had no power but what others allowed you to wield?”

The sharp crack of palm on cheek echoed through the room. Shocked silence hung in the air in place of Ceòl’s music.

“How dare you,” Emily hissed. Her dark eyes were furious as stared into him boldly.

A loud knocking on the door startled her out of her confidence.

“Empress, is everything alright?” one of the guards called out. The echo of the strike had been heard outside the room.

“Yes!” she called. She shifted in her seat, tense. “We’re fine!”

The side of his pale face was reddening quickly, and he held a hand gently to the flesh. His green eyes shone bright with unshed tears from the impact, but the corners of his mouth curled upwards.

“So you do have a spine.” Ceòl angled himself to face Emily on the bench next to him. “I was beginning to wonder about that.”

Emily’s shoulders pulled back as the words hit her. “You were trying make me angry?”

“And with great success,” Ceòl said. “I barely had to try.”

Emily clenched her fists at her sides. “That was _barely_?”

“Oh, yes. I imagine I could drive you to murder me if I truly put forth the effort.”

“You very well may,” Emily mumbled to herself.

Ceòl smiled fondly and resumed playing, this time a simple 4-note tune that looped upon itself hypnotically.

“Consider it your first lesson: The Power of Words.” 

* * *

Corvo met Anton Sokolov in a quiet corner of the Royal Library. It was abandoned at this time of day, but he still looked around, both with his mundane vision and the other, for hidden people or devices. He would never stop being paranoid about hidden recording devices now.

Sokolov was already waiting. He gave Corvo a respectful nod and motioned to the chair across from him at the narrow reading table as if granting permission to sit with him.

“How is my patient?” Sokolov began. “Recovering well, I hope?”

“He is. Thank you.”

“I should like to do a follow up visit to be certain, of course. Also, it would be wise to run a few tests to ensure that he’s free of disease. Pandyssia has some of the most virulent parasites I’ve ever encountered. After what happened with the rat plague I’d—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Corvo interrupted.

Sokolov squared his shoulders. “I must disagree, Corvo. If that young man has come from the continent then—”

“He hasn’t. If there were even the slightest chance he had, I would tell you,” Corvo assured him. “I would _never_ risk the safety of Dunwall, much less the empress. But he hasn’t come from Pandyssia. I swear it.”

The physician leaned back and seemed to accept the answer, however reluctantly. “But his parents _were_ of continental descent. That much is clear from the eyes.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Corvo said. “And as much as your assistance was appreciated the other day, that isn’t why I called you here.”

Sokolov rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure the appearance of a strange young man of unknown origin, and your sudden instance on a secret meeting with me, are unrelated. But please, continue.”

Corvo really hated Anton Sokolov sometimes. “Believe what you will. I have questions about recent developments within the Academy.”

That made Sokolov focus and lean forward.

Corvo had to disguise the line of questioning, obviously. He asked about medical research, astrological events, chemical formulas, and every other possible field of study. He took as many notes as he was able.

He played on Sokolov’s insecurities about his position to get him to admit to running a few experiments off-the-books. But nothing he admitted to sounded like it would possibly cause explosions in the Void. A few of the more senior members of the Academy did dabble in the occult, it seemed. Sokolov was quick to volunteer knowledge of their heretical activities to Corvo.

“Given our mutual interest in such… fields… I thought it might be prudent to inform you that a few of my colleagues have attempted to contact…” He glanced down at Corvo’s wrapped hand with a mixture of fascination and longing, “you-know-who sometime last year.” 

Corvo slid his hand down to rest on his thigh underneath the table.

“With any success?” Corvo asked, already knowing the answer.

“Pfft, highly unlikely,” Sokolov said. “They were using a variation of a summoning ritual I already tried. If I failed to force his appearance, I can’t imagine they were able to do it.”

Corvo knew Sokolov was still trying to contact the Outsider. He had poured considerable time, coin and blood into the endeavor with no success. Corvo was almost tempted to tell the Sokolov to stop wasting his time. Almost.

“I doubt it’s related to what I’m investigating, but it’s always good to know people with common interests.” Corvo made a show of jotting down the names. He had no desire to contact or blackmail these men. But, if Sokolov thought he had provided Corvo with useful ammunition against his academic rivals, he might be more cooperative in the future.

When Corvo was finished, he glanced down at his page of notes and scanned for anything that seemed relevant. Nothing jumped out at him. Ceòl would know better than he what fields were most closely related to magic. Plus, Sokolov was guaranteed not to have disclosed even half of what he knew. This is why Corvo’s next meeting was on the opposite end of Tower.

He took a very different approach with Piero.

Corvo held their meeting in a noisy section of the Tower’s water lock. Guard rotations passed above them, none the wiser to the men meeting near the hissing pipes below. 

Piero clambered down the pipes with even less grace than Corvo expected, but made it safely to bottom. He glanced nervously around as he approached Corvo’s spot in the shadows.

“Piero.” Corvo stepped forward into a beam of light. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Corvo. I was happy to make the trip. When I got your letter this morning it sounded urgent.”

“It may be,” he said, face hardened with concern. “I’ve just come from a meeting with Sokolov, and I have questions about the Academy.”

With a few pointed suggestions about political maneuvering and research being stolen from other Academy members, he was able to get Piero to divulge several avenues of research that Sokolov had conveniently forgotten to mention. However, nothing Piero told him about seemed related to magic or the Void.

It was time to move on from this line of questioning, and place the bait.

“Piero, you failed to mention Sokolov’s research on measuring the waves of… well whatever he was going on about.” Corvo shrugged. “Sokolov went on at great length about it. So, I must assume this is something you’re unaware of?”

Corvo rummaged around in his notes for the rough schematic Ceòl had sketched, and held it out.

Piero snatched the paper from Corvo and stared in horror at the schematics no one else could possibly know about. “I… no! How is this possible? No one knows about this. I never worked with partners or consulted anyone. I have it hidden away!” he cried.

“What are you talking about Piero?”

Corvo hated to play off of his fears, the very fears the Outsider planted to make Piero abandon the project to begin with. But Corvo needed him off-balance enough to not ask questions.

“It’s just like in my nightmares,” Piero whispered to himself, and ran a hand across his creased face. “He always finds some way to— Well, not this time.” Piero pursed is mouth and set his narrow shoulders.

“However he found out about my research, he’s not going to get his hands on my machine.” Piero looked up to meet Corvo’s eyes.“Will you help me keep it away from him?”

Corvo did his best to look neutral as he considered.“I am no natural philosopher, Piero. I barely understood what Sokolov was bragging about with all this. What are you asking me to do?”

Piero’s face pinched in concentration as he studied the schematics and formulas. “Based on these notes, assuming they accurately reflect what Sokolov was saying— no offense, Corvo, but you are no natural philosopher, as you’ve said yourself— then it looks like he’s in the most basic theoretical stages. He’s seen my early notes somehow, but not the machine itself. _That_ is what I must keep him from finding. You see, it has changed a bit from the initial designs. Once I actually started working on it, I realized how to better calibrate the remaining harmonic—”

Corvo had no idea what the string of words Piero uttered even were. He assumed they were human language, but understood none of it. Finally, he raised a hand to silence the rambling.

“Piero, if I offered to keep this thing in the Tower vault, would it be safe? I won’t have any dangerous half-finished projects lying around ready to leak chemicals or explode.”

“Oh goodness no!” Piero exclaimed. “It’s not at all dangerous. It’s totally passive in nature. It was designed to help measure the activity of…” Piero leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially, “the Void.”

Corvo feigned a stunned silence.

“I know!” Piero vibrated with excitement. “It seems like the stuff of fantasy tales. The concepts are untested, but promising.”

“So it won’t endanger anyone?” Corvo asked, just to seem dense.

“It’s a listening device, Corvo. But it listens to sounds we cannot hear. No one will be harmed by it.”

Corvo rubbed his chin carefully in faux-consideration. “Very well, Piero. I’ll do it as a personal favor to you. If you can have your machine delivered to the servants’ entrance, I will arrange for it to be sealed in one of the vaults. Sokolov will never know it’s here.”

* * *

Corvo wasn’t sure what to expect when he materialized on the balcony of the music room. What he heard as he crouched on the railing made this heart flutter and his eyes tear up with fondness.

Emily was laughing. It was the light, easy laughter he had not heard from her in years, and the most beautiful music to come from that room since her mother died.

“He didn’t!” Emily exclaimed, amusement and shock ringing in her voice.

“He absolutely did,” Ceòl replied. He was reclining casually on a chaise next to Emily. “The Prince grabbed half an Urppa melon from the dessert table to cover his nakedness, and continued down the halls, head held high. The members of the lower houses even bowed to him as he passed.”

Emily wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. For the first time in years, it was not shed in grief or hopelessness.

“And the entire court just… went on about their business? After _that_?”

“They did indeed. Because even though he made a fool of himself, the Prince didn’t shy away from his humiliation that night. He embraced it. He told the story for years to come, and invited others to laugh with him. And in that way, it could never be used against him.”

Emily hung her head and bit her lip. “I don’t think I could be that bold.”

“Of course you could,” Ceòl said, holding his head high. “Although I doubt you would ever be caught sandwiched in-between a stablehand and a Wind Priest.” He smirked and raised a curious eyebrow. “Unless, Your Majesty’s predilections align with Prince Torveld’s, and you also enjoy wearing animal masks during—”

Corvo burst forth from the shadows and into the room. “What in the Void kind of story are you telling my— Empress Emily?” he demanded. “She is still a child!”

“Corvo! You return,” Ceòl observed, utterly unperturbed by the outburst. “How were your meetings?”

Corvo stared daggers at him.

“Emily, I’m sorry if Ceòl was inappropriate. I should have assumed he would be but—”

“Corvo, it’s alright. It was a funny story,” she assured him. “And hardly anything I haven’t heard about.”

The blood drained from Corvo’s face and into the ether.

“I heard a lot of talk at the Golden Cat. And saw even more.” She turned to Ceòl and added, “Although, wearing animals masks that represent the food chain, to represent your position in the… chain, is something new. Pandyssia sounds strange.”

“Stranger than you would believe,” Ceòl said with a wink.

Corvo stomped over the the chaise Ceòl was lounging upon and wrenched him upwards by the elbow.

“It is nearly 6 o’clock. Her Highness will be served dinner shortly. I think that’s enough of a ‘lesson’ for tonight.”

Emily sighed and rolled her eyes but was otherwise silent.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Corvo,” Ceòl prompted.

“We’ll talk about it later. For now, the lesson is over and you’re returning to your room.”

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. Emily’s pleasant mood evaporated after Corvo shooed Ceòl away. It wounded Corvo to see her like this.

“What did you think of Ceòl?” he asked, once the servants were gone from the room.

“He’s odd,” Emily said. She remained silent for several seconds before she continued. “We talked for nearly three hours and I just realized I still don’t know a thing about him. I suppose he must be a very good spy for that to only just dawn on me.” She smiled tightly and lowered her gaze to the food. “Or, maybe I’m very easy to lead around by the nose.”

“You are not,” Corvo said. “But, he is very good. It’s… well it’s what he does. He talks to people without really saying anything. You walk away thinking you have some brilliant insight without actually knowing anything new.”

Emily hid a snort of unladylike laughter behind her napkin. “Oh, no. I definitely know some new things after our talks.”

Her grin was wicked, and so much like her mother in that moment, that Corvo felt his heart skip in his chest.

“Well, at least he made you laugh. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you like that.”

Emily bit her lip. “He did make me laugh. But he also made me cry. And before that, he made me so angry, I wanted to kill him.” She looked contemplatively at her plate. “It was a journey.”

Corvo’s grip on his silverware tightened. “What did he say to you?”

“He mentioned mother. Then the kidnappings. Then, he said the power of my title is only what others will allow me to have, and I just…”

“I should smack that cocky grin off him,” Corvo grumbled into his cup.

Emily’s smile almost split her face then. “I did! I slapped him so hard the guards outside the door almost came in.” Emily took a moment to calm her enthusiasm and resumed her proper posture. “But then he said that was ‘my first lesson’ about the power of words. I think he’s going to take it upon himself to really coach me, Corvo. He spent the next three hours telling me all about famous Kings and Chiefs from history, and how they got in and out of trouble with their words.”

Corvo leaned forward. “I heard the tail-end of it.”

“Not all the stories were that colorful. Some were very sad. Others were happy. I’m not sure if any of them were true, of course. But it did give me something to think about tonight.”

She toyed with her cutlery, drawing patterns in the sauce on her plate. “He says I’m to rewrite a situation in my life. Take an example of a time that went badly for me and rewrite it, using what I know now that I’m older and wiser.”

“Huh.” Corvo leaned back. “You know he’s not _really_ an oration coach.”

“I know. But he seems willing to help.”

* * *

After dinner, Corvo went to find Ceòl. He felt guilty about how he banished Ceòl to his room after the lesson. Corvo wasn’t even sure why he reacted so badly to the tale of old Pandyssian royal scandals.

But, when he arrived at the guest room, he found it empty. There was a tray of food on the corner table, with a small note tucked underneath. The tidy handwriting read:

_Please inform the kitchens that this guest has dietary restrictions. No whale meat, please._

Corvo hadn’t considered the Outsider’s connection to the great leviathans since Ceòl appeared. The stew had great greasy chunks of whale meat floating in it, and Ceòl seemed to have only eaten the bread and vegetables that were served on the side. Although, something else was odd.

There were several large lemon wedges on the side of the plate. They were squeezed totally dry. Corvo sniffed the water glass, but the missing lemon juice was not mixed with its contents. Also, the teacup was missing. Had Ceòl consumed raw lemon juice? He said he remembered how to be human, so surely he knew what an ill-advised tasting adventure that was.

Corvo smiled as the answer came to him. He adjusted his vision and focused as the world around him was hued orange. Sure enough, an arrow appeared on the wall next to the door, as well as the words: FIND ME. BRING FOOD.

He followed the trail into the halls of the Tower proper. Ceòl had marked small arrows along the walls using, Corvo assumed, a fingertip dipped in lemon juice. The marks were invisible to the naked eye, but shone brightly under his enhanced supernatural gaze. Clever.

The arrows led past the kitchens, and Corvo made a point to grab a few apricot tarts for Ceòl.

Finally, in a dead-end hallway in one the Tower’s far corners, the arrows stopped. A large X marked the end of the trail; an empty wall. He was reminded of Jessamine’s secret room. Dunwall Tower had a number of hidden passages and escape tunnels. Obviously, he didn’t know them all.

Corvo ran his hand along the small wooden panel next to the X. He pushed, and the panel gave way to reveal a small lever. The entire section of wall pulled out just enough for a grown man to slip through, then pull it shut behind him.

Within the wall, a narrow staircase led down. Corvo could see the silhouette of a young man somewhere beneath him. He could also hear multiple voices.

Corvo descended, and found Ceòl in the middle of a moderately-sized secret room. It was full of cobwebs, dust and rat droppings; it had been abandoned for decades. But the real features of note were the round vents in the walls.

Each one had a label and rubber seal fixed over the opening. There were a dozen such ports. They read: KITCHEN, PANTRY, LAUNDRY, LIBRARY NW, FURNACE, and so on. A few of those seals were unlatched, and voices carried into the room, echoing in a cacophony.

Ceòl stood in the center of it all. His head was thrown back and his eyes were closed as he basked in the sea of sound.

“What is this place?” Corvo asked.

Ceòl spun around, and nearly knocked over the cup of lemon juice on the floor.

“This—” he said above the voices, and threw his arms wide, “will be my workshop.” Ceòl hastily fixed the insulated seals over the open vents.

In-between mouthfuls of apricot tart, he explained that this room was built by a very paranoid Empress Larisa Olaskir. A series of pipes of a certain size and shape had been installed inside the ventilation shafts of the Tower. They amplified and carried sound to this location. Seals were placed over each vent so the listener could focus on one room at a time. Thanks to the clever design of the pipes, sound from inside the room would not carry easily the other way. So, the servants on the other end would not overhear any conversations within the hidden room.

Empress Larissa reigned at the very beginning of the Industrial Age, before the invention of audiographs. Given that she was assassinated within the Tower by rebels from Morley, her fears about danger inside her own home were not unwarranted.

“But the rebels got in through the sewers, not the servants she spent so much energy spying on,” Ceòl commented, as he licked the apricot spread from his fingers. “I thought this would be a good place for us to speak privately, and to perform my research.”

Corvo looked around appraisingly. The room would be useful.

“Were you able to rile Piero into enough of a paranoid fervor to convince him to bring his machine here?”

“I was,” said Corvo. “It will be delivered to the servants’ entrance tonight.”

“Excellent.” Ceòl clapped his hands in front of him. “Once I can assess its level of function, I’ll begin modifying it to my specifications. Then, hopefully, I can figure out what is going on in the Void.”

“And that will tell us what exactly?” Corvo wondered.

“At the very least, it should be able to tell us if the Void is nearing some sort of catastrophe. If so…” Ceòl paused and nibbled his lip.

Corvo’s gaze locked on.

“If it is, we will have little time to gather intelligence. We would need to attempt the ritual immediately.” Ceòl straightened and rolled back his shoulders. “However, I’m hoping that the Void is stable enough to afford us the time to investigate thoroughly. Being under-informed nearly cost me my existence once already.”

Corvo handed over his notes from the meetings, and Ceòl jotted his own notes next to Corvo’s. There was no furniture in the room, so Ceòl kneeled on the floor as he wrote. His pants would be filthy when he stood back up.

Most of the experiments seemed innocuous enough that he was certain they had no influence whatsoever on what had happened to him. A few of the experiments carried out by Piero could have implications for the use of magic, but Ceòl was already aware of their progress. None of the experiments listed would have caused the backlash that tossed him from the Void.

“I hate this,” Ceòl grumbled from his position on the floor. “Having only one set of eyes and ears. Hearing and seeing only what is in front of me.” Ceòl ran both hands through his hair, and pulled at his scalp sharply. “If this was the result of some amateur’s magical accident, we could find out. If this was intentional, and it likely was, the perpetrator will have covered their tracks already.”

Corvo stepped forward and pulled Ceòl’s wrists free from his hair. He squeezed firmly, but gently, and looked down at Ceòl.

“I’ll make some inquiries of my own,” Corvo said, softly. He ran his thumbs along Ceòl’s wrists in a soothing motion. “The Academy has cleaning staff and low-wage employees in its offices. I have a few contacts there. They won’t know the details of any experiments, but they know human behavior. If this was intentional, then the perpetrator will know they’ve done something big. If anyone at the Academy is acting oddly, I’ll find out.”

“That… would be very helpful.” Ceòl’s hands relaxed minutely in Corvo’s grip.

Ceòl lifted his eyes from the floor, and Corvo swallowed thickly at the image he made; on his knees in a dirty room, gazing up at Corvo with tousled hair, and lips plump from nervous nibbling. Corvo released Ceòl’s wrists like the flesh in his palms burned him, and took a few deep breaths to prevent any bodily reactions. He groaned in embarrassment when Ceòl’s mouth twisted into a sly smile.

“Not a word,” Corvo grumbled.

Ceòl rose gracefully to his feet and rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Corvo,” he said, flippantly. “You wouldn’t be the first man to think I look pretty on my knees.”

Corvo was shocked into silence as he watched Ceòl saunter to the foot of the stairs.

Ceòl paused, and cast a backwards glance. “Let’s see if Piero’s package has arrived.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me on tumblr[ @soontobecyborg](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/)
> 
> 1,000 thanks to [akfedeau](http://archiveofourown.org/users/akfedeau/pseuds/akfedeau) for beta-reading for me!


	6. Chapter 6

They called their secret place the “Observation Room.”

Corvo spent days helping Ceòl prepare the workshop. He procured office supplies and furniture. He arranged clandestine deliveries of equipment from the Academy. He even transversed space and manipulated time when he needed to carry a long table from one end of the Tower to the hidden room without anybody asking questions.

Ceòl was in a hurry to gather his data, and spent every evening hunched over Piero’s machine inside the Observation Room. Piero hadn’t delivered it in working order. It took days of intricate labor— not to mention some stolen supplies from the Academy— but the device was finally functional.

A long needle scratched out trails of ink on a strip of lined paper, fed at a steady rate by a roll long enough to last the entire day. Ceòl tore the sheet free after dinner each night, and spent hours transposing numbers into complex mathematical formulas. Each night, those formulas yielded points of data that Ceòl carefully plotted onto a graph of his own design. Soon, a large oval with interweaving lines began to take shape.

Corvo had no idea what any of it meant. He was tempted to ask, but doubted he’d understand the details.

He was tempted to ask about the other thing, too. _You wouldn’t be the first man to think I look pretty on my knees_ , Ceòl had said. That statement raised some interesting questions that Corvo hadn’t been bold enough to ask about. The idea supplied fodder for a few of his fantasies, however.

They spent a great deal of time together over the last week, but nothing as intimate as their contact on Ceòl’s first day had happened again. To keep scandalous rumors at bay, Corvo made sure not to enter Ceòl’s room at odd hours. When they were seen together it was in public areas, engaged in polite conversation or sharing meals.

However, the fact Corvo was spending time with anyone other than Emily was noteworthy. 

And since Ceòl couldn’t spend all of his free time with Corvo or in the Observation Room— too much time absent from the public eye would lead to questions— the former god had to play nice with the other humans of Dunwall Tower while his machine collected data throughout the day.

Ceòl was courteous to the nobles, and engaged them in the same type of conversation he had with Emily in their first lesson: speak often, reveal little. He repeated the barebones biography that Corvo crafted for him when questioned; he was from Serkonos where he learned music in one of the lesser-known schools, but was talented enough to have caught the Empress’ ear, and was so fortunate to have this opportunity.

Corvo doubted anyone believed the lies, but no one was willing to question him openly. Ceòl was able to handle the conversations intended to poke holes in his story.

Lord Prismall, who had a winter villa outside of Cullero, had asked Ceòl about the best route from the cigar factory to the merchant docks. To Corvo’s astonishment, not only did Ceòl know the most commonly traveled routes, he also knew that bandits ran amuck along the western boulevard during the winter months when food stores ran low. He made sure to advise Prismall of an alternate route, should he ever need to make his way to the docks.

As the days went by, Corvo noticed that Ceòl got along better with the Tower servants than with the upper classes. He used words like “please” and “thank you” freely. He smiled, made eye contact, and never lost his temper.

On his second day at the Tower, the servants brought whale sausages to the small table-for-two that Ceòl and Corvo shared in one of the Tower’s private studies. Ceòl had already swallowed a mouthful by the time he realized the error. His face turned the same shade of green as his eyes and Corvo thought his friend was going be sick at the table.

The serving girl responsible for the mix-up begged their forgiveness on the verge of tears. But Ceòl didn’t lash out or rage at her for the mistake, despite his obvious disgust at what he’d just eaten. He spoke to her softly, and assured her that he was not angry. The girl was shocked when Ceòl apologized for being difficult.

“I know whale is a common food, and I hate to be an inconvenience,” he explained calmly. “But it makes me terribly ill. I would not ask for special accommodations unless it was important.”

Ceòl’s kind treatment of the server did not go unnoticed by the staff. No more whale meat “accidentally” found its way into his food.

But no matter how well he handled difficult social interactions, Ceòl preferred solitude and retreated to the library as often as he could. He read tomes on a wide variety of subjects, but favored science and math. More often than not, Ceòl read the volumes with a sour look on his face that Corvo found more endearing than he’d ever admit. Apparently, entire subjects of study were incorrect to their very core.

Ceòl’s criticisms of humanity’s primitive science itched behind his teeth until he could speak freely inside their secret room at night.

“And the mental gymnastics needed to maintain the validity of his theory,” Ceòl said, with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. He was hunched over his graphs as he drew precise lines to connect a new point of data. “I almost wrote the corrected formulas in the margins before I returned it to the shelves.”

Corvo sat in the corner. He didn’t contribute much to the conversation, and was content to hear Ceòl speak so passionately about something.

“So why didn’t you?” Corvo asked.

Ceòl paused and looked up at him thoughtfully. “It would have been ignored, most likely.” He shrugged and returned to his work. “The correct theory will be discovered in time. History will look back on Sokolov’s work and learn an important lesson about double-blind studies. I don't know why I was so upset. In the Void, it all seemed… amusing.” He smiled and hung his head. “But I had perspective then that I lack now. I suppose that must be the difference.”

“You miss it,” Corvo said softly. “The Void. Being the Outsider.”

Ceòl looked up from his work. He furrowed his brows and scrunched his face in consideration. Finally, he answered. “It’s where I am supposed to be. _What_ I am supposed to be.”

“But isn’t _human_ what you were supposed to be?” Corvo asked. “You were born one, after all.”

Ceòl froze in his work and pursed his lips. “You were born naked and screaming, Corvo. You don’t have to stay that way.”

Ceòl stood up and walked over to Piero’s machine. 

“I watch this needle jump up and down every night. It records the sounds of the Void and transcribes it into something two-dimensional and hollow.” He stared at the lines of ink rising and falling upon the long strip of paper and traced them with his fingers. “It’s like reading sheet music and having some vague understanding of what the notes represent without ever having experienced the music yourself. Being human again, after having been more, is the difference between seeing notes on a page and listening to a symphony.”

Corvo listened intently. He hadn’t expected such a straightforward answer and wanted to absorb every word.

Ceòl waved over to the chart on the table, full of intersecting lines and formulas jotted around the edges. “But _this_ is all I can comprehend of it now.” He pressed fingers to his temples and massaged slowly. “Whatever my birth, I became more. I need to be whole again. Can you understand that?”

A cold pit opened up in Corvo’s gut. “Can I understand loss?” he said softly. Corvo rose slowly from his seat, face set in a hard mask. “Can I understand what it’s like to become joined with something other than myself and then have it torn away?” He paced slowly over to table and stared into Ceòl’s eyes. “Oh, yes. I can.”

Ceòl’s face drained of color. “I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t blame you, by the way,” Corvo interrupted, before he lost the nerve to say the words aloud. “But I used to. You could have snapped your fingers and stopped it from happening. You could have saved her, but you didn’t. I hated you for that in the beginning.”

Corvo paused to feel the wave of anguish that always hit when he thought about Jessamine.

“But you weren’t the one who wanted her dead.” Corvo took a small step around the table and moved closer to Ceòl.

“You weren’t the one who killed her.” He swallowed thickly and took another cautious step.

“You gave Daud his powers, but you didn’t make him do what he did.” Corvo stood directly in front of him now. 

“And I’ve spent enough time in the Void to understand—” Corvo’s breath hitched and his throat tightened with emotion. “— her death was just another interesting note in history to you.”

Corvo ran a hand over his tired face. The old sparks of righteous anger no longer flared within him. He’d stopped being angry at the Outsider years ago, but he’d never said it.

“I hate that I can understand it from your perspective. But unlike you, I don’t have the option of getting her back. I will never be whole again.”

Ceòl cast his gaze down before he answered softly, “I gave back what little of her I could.”

Corvo sucked in a breath as his pulse pounded heavily in his ears. He knew it spoke with her voice, but he’d always been afraid to ask for the specifics. He kept it locked away within a secret panel in the wall near his bed; out of sight, but never totally out of mind. “The Heart.”

Ceòl nodded.

“It sounds like— But is she—” Corvo fought for the words.

“It contains a fragment of what she was. An echo.” Ceòl ran a hand across the back of his neck, in a way that made him look young and unsure. “Like a lock of hair, but a great deal more macabre.”

“A lock of—”All the fight drained from Corvo’s limbs, and he stared numbly into Ceòl’s face. “I don’t know if I should thank you, or hit you.”

Ceòl shrugged, gaze still averted. “Either would be an appropriate response.”

And despite himself, Corvo laughed.

The tension in the air between them dissipated and Ceòl gazed up at him, questioning and hopeful.

Corvo felt his shoulders droop. He would probably never understand why the Outsider did the things he did; it was enough to know that he meant no harm.

It dawned on Corvo that they were standing a bit too close, just inches from each other. Corvo drifted further into his space.

_“Well, they’re not fucking in either of their own beds. The maids all said the sheets have been clean.”_

A disembodied voice rang out in the room and startled both of them out of their moment. Dominic Umbridge was talking to someone in whatever room was labeled LIBRARY NW.

Suddenly, Corvo remembered that the current spymaster’s office had once been a private library in the Tower before the beginning of the Industrial Age. They had an ear into the old man’s office. They were probably listening through the vent behind his desk!

_“And when he collapsed shortly after his arrival, the Lord Protector refused to leave his side for hours.”_ The second voice belonged to Sokolov. _“This young man is very important to Corvo. There is more going on here than we’re being told.”_  

_“Well I certainly don’t believe the empress’ story about him being an ‘oration coach.’ Though, her tutors say she’s shown improvement in her speech this week. But why would the Lord Protector go to so much trouble just to keep his skinny whore in the Tower? Why involve the empress?”_ Umbridge mused.

“Whore?” Corvo exclaimed, anger knotted in his core.

“Skinny?” Ceòl spat.

Corvo cast him a confused glance.

“My figure is ‘lithe’ if it must be described,” Ceòl stated. “Not skinny.”

_“I have a theory about why the empress is involved in this shoddy pretense.”_ Sokolov continued. _“When I examined him, as thoroughly as I dared given Corvo’s_ possessive _hovering, I noticed something rather odd about his body.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“He doesn’t have a single callus, scratch or scar anywhere on his person. Clearly, he has led an exceptionally comfortable life. This points to noble blood.”_

Ceòl raised a hand to his mouth and muffled a hiccup of laughter.

_“But he’s not from Gristol,”_ Umbridge said. _“He’s far too pale to be Serkonan, like he claims. I know the lesser rulers of Morley and Tyvia. He isn’t one of theirs.”_

_“You are correct,”_ Sokolov replied, and paused for dramatic effect, probably. _“I believe he is high-born, but not of the Isles.”_

_“Where then?”_ Umbridge asked.

_“The eyes never lie. This boy is Pandyssian royalty.”_

Ceòl’s laughter drowned out whatever they said next.

Corvo had never seen him like this, head thrown back and mouth open in uproarious glee. It was contagious too, because Corvo started right in with him. His sides and cheeks burned by the time they calmed down. How long had it been since he’d laughed?

They sat near the wall to listen to the rest of the exchange, and struggled to regain their composure as Sokolov theorized about Ceòl’s Pandyssian origins.

The Empire’s contact with Pandyssia was limited to the few expeditions that ever returned from the massive continent. Most of those suffered heavy losses from disease and injury. Contact with the natives was rare, and they were always described as primitive and hostile. As far as the Academy knew, there were no proper civilizations on the continent.

Corvo couldn’t speak to modern-day Pandyssia, but he had seen enough evidence in the Void to know the continent had born many grand civilizations over the millennia. He wondered how much of the Academy’s knowledge about the continent’s people was true, and how much was based in assumptions of their own superiority. He wagered quite a bit was the latter.

_“But what if a more advanced civilization does survive on that deadly continent?”_ Sokolov wondered aloud. _“He refuses to eat any part of the whale, and certain tribes of Pandyssia worship the great beasts. It’s certainly related.”_ Sokolov hummed in thought. _“If Corvo funded an expedition in secret and made contact, an alliance could be in the works.”_

Spymaster Umbridge blustered in disbelief and disgust, until he was finally able to ask, “ _But an alliance for what purpose? And why is this young man, noble or not, so important to Corvo’s plans?”_

“You have grand plans, Corvo!” Ceòl teased. “You ally continents and negotiate with secret kingdoms. Impressive.”

_“What is clear, is that he was the only survivor of his entourage,”_ Sokolov said. _“He arrived at the gates alone, which was obviously not the plan. And the way Corvo is foisting him on Her Highness with those private ‘lessons’ leads me to conclude one thing: an arranged marriage.”_

Corvo stared in horror at the voice coming from the vent. He longed for a rat to posses so he could climb through and bite Sokolov’s ankle.

Ceòl appeared to be delighted by the entire situation, however. He held his face in his hands while he laughed silently.

_“Think about it, Dominic,”_ Sokolov continued. _“Emily will have to marry eventually. The people won’t tolerate another unwed empress with a bastard heir. But, wedding her to local nobility would pose risks. They would have family, resources, and political allies of their own. I think Corvo means to protect Emily by arranging a foreign consort over whom he can exercise some control. Quite frankly… it’s brilliant. I’m shocked he’d think of it.”_

“As am I!” Ceòl said, as he recovered his breath. “When do Emily and I consummate our union?”

“Never,” Corvo grumbled.

“There you are, exercising control over me.” Ceòl’s grin was pure mischief. “You are a possessive man, Corvo.”

_“But why bother with the ruse then?”_ Umbridge asked.

_“Whatever his machinations, Corvo would never force Emily into any arrangement against her will,”_ Sokolov said. _“That much, I can be sure of. Perhaps he’s allowing them some time to become acquainted? If Emily refuses the young man, he can be sent away without fuss. If she takes a liking to him…”_

The conversation in Umbridge’s office lasted several more minutes, and descended into even further speculation about Ceòl’s true purpose at the Tower and Corvo’s expert political scheming. Sokolov was always observant, if a bit paranoid. However, this line of reasoning was a stretch of the imagination, even for him.

Once the conversation ended, Ceòl closed the seal on the vent for Umbridge’s office, and went back to his charts.

“It wouldn’t be a terrible idea, you know— arranging for a Royal Consort,” Ceòl said, as he plotted another line on the grid. “Sokolov is right about one thing; the noble families will not tolerate two generations of illegitimate blood on the throne without considerable persuasion. And if I _were_ royalty to some newly acquired Pandyssian allied nation, it would be a perfect solution. Emily gets a legitimate heir, and a spouse of foreign blood who would never be able to hold the throne independently.”

“She isn’t some piece on a game board to be moved around,” Corvo grumbled. He knew full well he was wrong as far as the Empire’s aristocrats were concerned.

Ceòl raised an eyebrow, but declined to comment.

The pair fell back into a comfortable silence. The only regular noises in the room came from Ceòl, mumbling to himself as he manipulated the complex figures and formulas.Corvo found the former adorable, and the latter fascinating. His cursory education in Serkonos barely touched on anything more complicated than arithmetic. But, advanced calculations seemed to come quite naturally to Ceòl.

When the small clock in the room struck 11:00, Corvo rose to stretch his legs. He noticed that Ceòl’s shoulders were high and tight. Without making the conscious decision, Corvo found himself across the room. He stood behind Ceòl and dug his thumbs into the tense muscles of his neck and back.

Ceòl melted underneath his hands.

“It’s late. You’ve been at this for hours.” Corvo’s voice was low and rough. “How much more do you need to do?”

Ceòl moaned obscenely around the words, “Almost… finished.”

Corvo dug deeper into a knot on Ceòl’s shoulder as he wrung noises of satisfaction from him.

Ceòl groaned, and dropped his straight-edged measuring tool. He hung his head limply as his arms went slack.

“There?” Corvo asked, as he found another spot.

Ceòl nodded silently.

Several blissful minutes were spent this way. Corvo relished the feeling of Ceòl yielding beneath his touch.

“You’ve been constantly tense ever since you arrived at the Tower,” Corvo observed.

Ceòl turned his head, heavy as it was with relaxation, and struck him with a pointed glare.

“Not without reason, obviously,” Corvo said. “I only mean, you need to take care of yourself. You’ve been working on this until midnight every night. Are you sleeping well enough?”

Ceòl took a moment to answer. “I have nightmares every time I sleep.”

“Is it because of whatever is wrong with the Void?”

“The dreams haven’t taken me there,” Ceòl said. “I stay firmly within my own mind, awful a place as it is to be right now.” 

“You nearly died,” said Corvo. “It’s understandable to have nightmares about it.”

“I did die, Corvo,” Ceòl whispered. “The Outsider was destroyed and I am the ghost that remains.”

Corvo felt the melancholy rolling off of Ceòl in waves. He stood and Corvo forced himself to release his grip.

“But once you get back to the Void, you can… reform yourself?” Corvo asked.

Corvo watched, fascinated, as Ceòl ran his fingers over the marks he had spent the evening painstakingly plotting on his chart.

“I became the Outsider once. I can do it again,” Ceòl said. His eyes traced back and forth and the dark brows pinched together in worry.

“You don’t like what the numbers are telling you,” Corvo said. 

“It’s too early to draw conclusions, and I refuse to be a pessimist when you finally have me relaxed this evening.” Ceòl forced a smile and switched off the large lamp above the table, leaving only the portable lantern in the corner for light. “Let us retire, Lord Protector.”

Nights in the Tower were eerily quiet. They walked in silence through the halls, but when they reached the turn that would take them to the guest wing that hosted Ceòl’s room, they both hesitated.

“You don’t want to sleep yet?” Corvo asked.

Ceòl shook his head.

“Neither do I. Come on.”

They made their way out into the rose gardens, barely lit at this time of night, and strolled along the edges of the grounds that overlooked the Wrenhaven River. The moon was nearly full and its reflection on the water made Ceòl’s skin glow. He almost looked like the Outsider again.

Their location reminded Corvo of the last time he was in the Void. He wondered what it looked like now without the Outsider to bring it stability, or whatever it was he did before, and would do again.

This situation was temporary. It had to be. The fate of the world, or something like it, was at stake wasn’t it? Ceòl could never stay.

And yet, Corvo’s mind examined improbable scenarios against his will. What if the Void wasn’t as damaged as they feared? Ceòl said it could take several years, even lifetimes, before its instability threatened the real world. What if the results showed that there was time enough for an extended stay? Corvo was an older man now, and had no illusions about his lifespan. Perhaps Ceòl could spare a few decades before his return. 

Corvo stumbled and nearly ran into Ceòl as the young man froze in his steps and shuddered.

The unmistakable sound of whale song, low and pained, rang out in the night air. A whaling ship approached. A huge bull was suspended on its hooks and the beast was using what remained of its energy to cry out into the night.

Ceòl’s face pinched in sympathetic pain and he shut his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Corvo stepped to his side and pulled him closer.

“Perspective,” Ceòl whispered. “I simply lack perspective. It will pass. One day, they will stop screaming.”

Corvo watched the trawler continue up the river to the slaughterhouse where the leviathan would meet its slow and painful end.

He never thought much about whaling, or the animals whose oil powered their city, before. Few in the Empire did. There was the occasional pamphlet by Pacotti that floated around, decrying the trade and claiming whales to be nearly sentient. Most people dismissed them. But, ever since his regular visits to the Void, Corvo questioned the necessity of the trade that drove their economy.

Several long minutes passed before the trawler was gone.

Corvo ran large hands up and down Ceòl’s back until he relaxed. “Are you alright now?”

Ceòl nodded in the affirmative. “Everything is so different. Being human again, I—”

He took a short step back and Corvo let his hands fall away. Ceòl caught the Marked one in his palm and ran his nimble fingers over the leather wrapping.

“I can practically hear all the questions you’re dying to ask,” Ceòl whispered. “All the gritty details of my story.”

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” Curious as Corvo was, he would not demand answers about Ceòl’s life before the Void. “Though, you do seem to feel more emotion now, as a human.”

“I felt some emotion as the Outsider, but it was…” Ceòl nibbled his lower lip in the manner that drove Corvo to absolute distraction. “It was easier to remain objective.” His shoulders slumped, and wide eyes met Corvo’s. “How do people live like this? I feel _everything_ and there is no way to disperse it.”

Corvo glanced down at their joined hands and felt exactly the same way. He lifted his free hand to the side of Ceòl’s face and waited for a reaction.

Ceòl’s breath hitched when Corvo ran a thumb across a sharp cheekbone.

Corvo inched closer and met Ceòl’s eyes. His pupils were blown. The signs seemed obvious, but Corvo had to be certain.

“If I’m misreading the situation you need to tell me, because I—”

Ceòl closed the distance without warning. He pressed soft lips against Corvo’s, and gave a surprised moan.

Corvo’s fingers threaded through Ceòl’s short hair as he swiped his tongue across those bitten lips to beg entry. After a moment of hesitation, Ceòl opened for him. Corvo had been fantasizing about this for days, years really, and poured himself into the kiss.

Ceòl’s hands shot forward to the lapels of Corvo’s coat and for a terrible moment he thought he’d gone too far, that Ceòl was going to push him away. But long fingers curled around the fabric and pulled Corvo closer instead. Corvo deepened the kiss with a satisfied rumble in his chest. His free hand snaked around to Ceòl’s lower back and pulled close.

Ceòl hummed in pleasure against his mouth and yielded further.

They pulled away for breath after a few glorious minutes, chests rising and falling in a quickened rhythm.

Corvo could feel the smitten grin cracking his face. His cheeks were unaccustomed to the strain. But Ceòl’s face was slack, his mouth partially open, with a look Corvo could not interpret. Wonder? Disbelief? Confusion?

Before there was a chance to speak, Ceòl buried his face in Corvo’s neck and wrapped trembling arms around his waist.

They held each other in the dark, illuminated by moonlight and surrounded by flowers in bloom.

Ceòl breathed against Corvo’s skin, inhaling deeply and loosing small puffs of warm breath in the chilled night air. It made Corvo shiver with arousal.

He tilted his head down to plant small kisses on the skin behind Ceòl’s ear. The reaction was a soul-shattering whimper against the sensitive skin of Corvo’s jugular.

Ceòl’s hands tightened behind Corvo’s back as he began to reciprocate.

It was a contest of gentle kisses and tender caressing, each driving the other to increasingly intimate displays of soft affection. Fingers trailed delicately along arms, mouths nipped playfully and tongues followed with salving licks. 

Corvo was so drunk on the sounds Ceòl was making, it nearly escaped his attention when that talented mouth paused in the path it was taking up and down his neck. Corvo bit down in gentle protest where Ceòl’s neck met his shoulder. That was all that it took to make Ceòl to seize up in his arms.

Ceòl stiffened and muffled a groan into Corvo’s shoulder, grinding himself against the older man’s hip in the process.

Corvo held him tightly through the orgasm, and pressed soft kisses to Ceòl’s temple while he murmured words of praise.

“Good,” he whispered, as Ceòl trembled with the last waves of his pleasure. “Just like that.”

Corvo ran a hand up and down Ceòl’s spine as he caught his breath. He was shocked, and more than a little pleased with himself, to have had such an effect.

After a few silent moments, Ceòl lifted his head from Corvo’s shoulder and met his gaze.

“That was unexpected,” Ceòl said, his voice deceptively normal.

“For the both of us,” Corvo replied with a soft smile.

Ceòl flushed and looked away, but Corvo grabbed his chin softly and angled his face back.

“Do you regret it?” Corvo asked. They should have discussed this. He should have asked what it meant.

“My only regret is spurting in my pants like an untouched virgin,” Ceòl said. He paused, and laughed to himself. “Although, I suppose I am one now.”

Corvo thinned his lips to keep from laughing and fished a handkerchief out of his coat pocket. He handed it to Ceòl with a flourish.

“Ever the gentleman,” Ceòl deadpanned.

Corvo stared fondly as Ceòl turned his back to clean the insides of his trousers. When he turned back around, he held the cloth delicately between two fingers, at a loss as to what to do with it.

“Sacrifice it to the river.” Corvo pointed over to the ledge of the garden wall.

Ceòl let the small piece of fabric drift away on the night wind and into the Wrenhaven. They stood side by side as they watched it float down to be swallowed by the flowing water.

“Good to know I wasn’t misreading the situation,” Corvo said, after a few moments of awkward quiet.

Ceòl hung his head and laughed. “No, I suppose you were not, however unexpected the situation may have been.”

“Not _that_ unexpected. Was it?” Hadn’t they been growing closer for years now?

Ceòl kept his gaze towards the river. “You are singularly fascinating, Corvo.”

Corvo reached out and angled Ceòl’s face towards him. “Just checking the eyes,” he said. “You sounded like your old self for a moment there.”

Ceòl cracked a smile. “I was preparing to make a point. A long-winded one perhaps, but if you lack the patience—”

Corvo held up his hands in surrender. “I yield!” he jested. “Tell me about how I fascinate you, great god of the Void.”

Ceòl narrowed his eyes in mock-sternness, which only made Corvo smile wider.

“Corvo, why do men tell stories of monsters and magic? Why do they write heart-pounding adventures full of suspense where the characters overcome all odds?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” Corvo said.

“These tales are repeated and remembered because most people will never experience anything like it in their lives.” Ceòl scanned the river and the city below as if it were all very much beneath him.

“Makes sense. What’s that got to do with me?” he asked.

“Why do human tales almost always feature noble heroes? Why are stories of honorable men retold over and over?”

Corvo shook his head. “For very different reasons. Those stories are aspirational. They teach us how we should be.”

“Aspirational or not, how many men ever live up to those ideals?”

“More than you think.” Corvo squared his shoulders.

“When pressed, far fewer than you think, Corvo. Men like you are as rare as any sea monster or impossible triumph.” Ceòl turned to face him.

“When I give someone my Mark, it is because they are interesting enough to change things. Overwhelmingly, they disappoint. They chose to better their own life with riches or power. Occasionally, they amass followers. Other times, they seek to expand their gifts in ways beyond what they were granted. But you…”

Ceòl stepped into his space and lifted a hand to Corvo’s cheek.

Corvo leaned into the touch. “I needed your Mark to save Emily, and I did. I changed the word by getting her back. Once she was safe, I didn’t need to use those powers anymore. And I— well, I didn’t want to become dependent on them either.”

“And you are not,” Ceòl said softy. “Very few people are able to taste that kind of power, and then only use it when needed.”

Corvo hated to agree, but Ceòl did have a point. Having access to supernatural abilities changed the way he lived. Even in the last few days, he’d grown accustomed to seeing through walls and traveling long distances in an instant. He hadn’t killed anyone with swarms of flesh-eating rats, but the powers did make retrieving dead drops, and ensuring no one was spying on his meetings, infinitely easier.

“Is that why you visited me so often?” Corvo asked. “You were impressed with my restraint?”

“That was one reason.” Ceòl grinned wickedly. “And I _continue_ to be impressed with your restraint, Corvo. Most men would have had me bent over this wall by now.”

Corvo jumped at the sudden shift in conversation. His erection had already flagged, but he felt a small resurgence at the colorful description.

“Well the wall isn’t the proper height,” Corvo said. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Ceòl’s. “The angle would be all wrong.”

Ceòl’s eyes widened and he smiled. He probably expected Corvo to act like a blushing schoolboy. But, it was difficult to be shy after feeling Ceòl come apart in his arms.

“And, unless you brought a vial of oil with you,” Corvo continued, “I don’t think that would be pleasant for either of us.”

“No,” Ceòl whispered against Corvo’s lips. “It certainly would not. But there are other things we can do.”

He took Corvo’s hand and led them over to a low stone bench, hidden from the main path by an overgrown rose bush; not that there was anyone around to see them at this time of night.

“Sit,” Ceòl said cooly. “Straddle the bench sideways, then lay back.”

Corvo complied, eager to see where this led. Ceòl crawled between his spread legs and ran long-fingered hands up the insides of his thighs. Corvo let out a gasp. His pants were already tented and Ceòl hadn’t even touched him yet.

“I want you to clasp your hands behind you, underneath the bench. Keep them there,” Ceòl said, a tone of playful command in his voice.

Corvo did as he was told.

Ceòl cupped him through his pants and gave a gentle squeeze. Corvo grunted and thrust up in to the palm, seeking friction. Ceòl placed his free hand on Corvo’s hip and held it firmly in place.

“Stay,” he whispered.

So it was going to be like that, then. Corvo growled low in his throat, but obeyed. He remained perfectly still when Ceòl unbuttoned his pants with painful slowness and wrapped his fingers around Corvo’s length.

He began a slow rhythm with a spit-slicked palm, and thumbed the head at irregular intervals. It kept Corvo on edge and off balance.

Corvo dug his fingers into his clasped wrists underneath the bench to keep himself from reaching out. He wanted to touch Ceòl so badly.

Green eyes met his and Corvo’s entire body shuddered with the intensity of his gaze. Ceòl may have the face of a young man who had barely grown into his adult body, but his eyes were ages old. The person behind those eyes had seen empires form and crumble, and now they were looking at him as if he were the only significant thing in all the world.

Corvo’s breath hitched as his peak drew closer. Ceòl’s hand sped up, and tightened its grip deliciously.

“Do you have another handkerchief in your coat, Corvo?” he asked, with a calm in his voice that did not match the focus on his face.

Corvo could only shake his head in the negative. He’d clean himself later. Or let the entire Tower staff find him walking around with spend on his chest for all he cared at the moment.

“That is unfortunate,” Ceòl said coyly. “I would hate to ruin this fine shirt.” He removed his hand and sat back on his knees.

Corvo let out a moan in a higher pitch than he would ever admit to, and thought he would die. Godly indifference was one thing, but this was actual cruelty. His face must have betrayed those thoughts.

“Shhh, my dear Corvo,” Ceòl whispered. He inched backwards on the bench and leaned forward again, aligning his face with Corvo’s arousal. “I am not that unkind.”

Corvo craned his neck up to catch every second of what happened next.

Ceòl lowered his mouth and kissed the tip of Corvo’s cock before he swirled his tongue around the head with skill that spoke of ample practice. When he lowered himself and took Corvo into the wet heat of his mouth, the climax overtook Corvo quickly. Between the perfect suction, the expert tongue on his shaft and the tight throat swallowing around his head, he was undone.

Corvo threw his head backwards as he came apart. He did not know or care if the spots in his vision were from the rush of pleasure or the pain of impact as his skull hit the bench. He was too overwhelmed to make a sound as Ceòl swallowed around him.

When he regained his composure some minutes later, Corvo saw that he was already tucked away neatly inside his pants with Ceòl draped across his chest.

“Now who’s the gentleman?” Corvo asked lazily.

Ceòl chuckled fondly against his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me on tumblr[ @soontobecyborg](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/)
> 
> 1,000 thanks to [akfedeau](http://archiveofourown.org/users/akfedeau/pseuds/akfedeau) for beta-reading for me!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm late with the update, guys. I ran into an unexpected snag. :( 
> 
> I will keep updating. But the updates may slow down as I get closer to the end.
> 
> -see end notes for trigger warnings

Ceòl’s findings made no sense.

He mumbled around the pen in his mouth and worried over the numbers he saw in front of him.He’d spent the last few evenings double checking every point of data he’d plotted since he began collecting readings and, unfortunately, his calculations were correct. The picture was finally coming together, but what it revealed was confusing.

“Keep grinding your teeth around that pen, and it’s going to explode.”

Ceòl’s gaze shot up from his work and over to Corvo. He was seated next to Ceòl at the long table, smiling fondly from beneath his bangs. 

“You’ll have a mouthful of ink if you don’t ease off,” Corvo added.

Corvo was reviewing the contents of some reports his spies had left for him. They mostly provided intelligence about tax evasion and extramarital affairs nowadays. The truly nefarious schemes had dried up. Still, there was no such thing as useless information, and Ceòl was impressed with the important details Corvo could root out from his spies’ hastily scrawled notes.

Corvo impressed him in general.

It had been nearly a week since their tryst. Their day-to-day routines hadn’t changed much. Corvo spent his days guarding Emily, and Ceòl coached her on speech three times per week. They maintained a facade of friendly professionalism in public. However, their evenings within the Observation Room had become much more intimate.

Away from prying eyes and ears, the atmosphere was oddly domestic. They chatted about their day, worked on their own projects alongside each other, and shared casual affection freely. It was routine for Corvo to sidle up beside him and run a hand along his back or place a peck of a kiss on his hairline.

But when things between them became heated, when he felt Corvo’s grip tighten on his backside or a hand slide underneath his clothes, Ceòl’s heart began to race and his vision blurred, but not in the ways they should.

Corvo was nothing if not observant. He backed off without complaint each time, smiling and gentle. Most men would have been frustrated, but Corvo showed no signs of it.

Ceòl slid the pen from between his teeth and returned his attention to the charts.

What was going on in the Void? The explosion had done significant damage. But rather than becoming increasingly unstable, the Void seemed to be holding together. It wasn’t healing, but neither was it crumbling.

What concerned him most was the explosion’s point of origin. He couldn’t be sure of the exact cause, but the residual echoes all indicated the same thing— the explosion had not come from an outside actor.

If someone in this world did something to influence the Void, there would be signs of pressure from “outside.” But there were none. The explosion had to have emanated from within the Void.

Ceòl felt his stomach drop and he swayed on his feet and leaned over the charts.

Had the Void expelled him? The idea seemed impossible when Ceòl first arrived at the Tower, shaken and afraid. He hadn’t even considered it. There were cycles of disruption and calm, but the Void was not unstable enough to have ejected him naturally. Or was it?

No longer able to trust his senses, Ceòl tore a fresh sheet of paper from his supplies and began double checking some base measurements. He still understand the complex mathematics he’d absorbed over the millennia, even though he had to think about the numbers now. They no longer flowed through him like breathing, instinctive and unconscious, as they had before. But he knew what to do.

“Have you always been so good with numbers?” Corvo asked.

Ceòl watched as Corvo’s eyes scanned the new work, uncomprehending but obviously impressed. He stamped down on the juvenile temptation to preen under the praise.

“Not always,” he said.

“So this is something you learned… after?” Corvo asked, eyebrows raised.

Ceòl had to give him credit. Corvo had asked very few questions about his previous human life and the details of how he came to be the Outsider. But each day he was here, Ceòl grew more comfortable with the idea of… sharing.

“Yes,” he admitted softly. “I learned it after. When I was human the first time, I couldn’t even read.”

They continued to work in comfortable quiet.

No matter how many times he went over his results, Ceòl’s numbers still held up. He now had no solid theories on what had happened in the Void. Their leads at the Academy had gone nowhere.

So now, the Abbey of the Everyman had to be investigated.

Unlike the Academy, where Corvo had insinuated spies into the cleaning and administrative staff, the Abbey’s chores and paperwork were all taken care of by the brothers themselves.

Fortunately, Emily’s meeting with the High Overseer was the day after next. 

“I could arrange to visit the High Overseer’s offices.” Corvo leaned back in his chair and raised a hand to his chin in thought. “And a tour of the Abbey at Whitecliff after that. I won’t uncover any grand plans just by walking around. But, I can gauge the atmosphere and peer through a few walls.”

Ceòl’s chest tightened at the thought of it. “I don’t want you wandering around inside the belly of the beast.”

“Well, one of us needs to get information, and you have no reason go inside their ranks. You’re too old to undergo the Trials of Aptitude,” Corvo joked.

Ceòl shuddered and turned his face away. Despite the Abbey’s hardline stance against occult rituals, their Trials of Aptitude, and the methods by which they selected and marked young boys who showed “promise”, all stemmed from ancient practices that were very familiar to him.

“I’ll be careful,” Corvo promised.

He rose from his chair and ran a gentle caress along the length of Ceòl’s arm. The touch warmed him, and Ceòl let out small resigned sigh.

“Don’t go alone,” he pleaded, avoiding Corvo’s eyes. “Before he died, Teague Martin told the Abbey that you bore my Mark. They _know_ you’re a heretic, but cannot arrest someone of your station without iron-clad proof. If you go without an entourage, they may take their chances.” He looked down at the wrapped hand on his arm that had paused mid-caress. “All they would have to do is look at your hand.”

After that terrifying nightmare on his first night at the Tower, Ceòl couldn’t help but worry.

Corvo straightened.

“They know for certain?” he asked, voice low and tight. “I knew they suspected, but— why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because before, I knew you were in no danger of being arrested. But now I have no way of knowing what will happen, so I’m warning you.”

Corvo folded his arms across his chest and frowned.

Ceòl met Corvo’s eyes, and held his chin high. “You’re angry at me because I didn’t inform you about something that never come to pass?”

Corvo closed his eyes, took a measured breath and exhaled slowly. “We haven’t discussed this plainly, but would you consider us… close?”

Ceòl raised both eyebrows, unimpressed. “Obviously,”

“Right. Well, people who are close like to tell each other about threats as a matter of policy. You should have told me about the Abbey years ago,” Corvo said, jaw tight.

Ceòl narrowed his gaze in response. “People who are ‘close’ share information in order to protect each other. That’s exactly why I’m telling you about the _potential_ dangers now.”

“I’ve been walking around this entire time, thinking I was safe from them. And you just let me—” Corvo sighed in frustration and pursed his lips.

“Would you have really wanted to know about _every_ possible outcome in your life, Corvo?” Ceòl’s shoulders slumped and his face softened. “Would you have wanted to know about every time the Overseers searched for evidence of heresy and found nothing? Every assassin that never got inside the Tower?”

He took a step forward, just inside Corvo’s personal space. “Would you have wanted to know about every bullet meant for you that never hit its mark?”

Corvo hung his head and deflated. “No. I wouldn’t.” He met Ceòl’s gaze after a moment of thought. “Maybe you’re right. Knowing about the Abbey would have made me a paranoid mess. And other than your Mark,” Corvo raised his hand to Ceòl’s cheek, “there’s no evidence for them find. It’s not as if I engaged in any heresy.”

Ceòl smiled and leaned into the touch. “You engaged in heresy every time we met.”

“Huh. I suppose I did,” Corvo hummed. “And I would again.”

Ceòl felt the tension in his chest ease as Corvo wound a hand around the back of his neck and leaned in for a kiss. He paused just shy of Ceòl’s lips, as if to ask permission.

Even after a week enthusiastic responses, Corvo still found some way to ask him, as if the answer would suddenly become “no.”

Ceòl closed the distance and pressed his lips to Corvo’s. The kiss was sweet and gentle. It did not need to go deeper to convey its meaning.

It felt so strange, being human again. Every moment of every day was eerily familiar and utterly alien. Once he returned to the Void, he would change. He would no longer be human.

Corvo had enjoyed whatever they were before all of this happened. Ceòl hoped he would again. They would need to have that talk before his return.

The kiss broke apart with an easy sigh, and Corvo turned his focus to the charts on the table.

“Good news or bad?” he asked. “I can’t read any of this but your face was clear enough. You found something.”

Ceòl stood in front of the charts, as baffled as he was at the beginning of the evening.

“The only good news is that we will have ample time to investigate.” Ceòl cleared the detritus of his sketches and notes to the side. “The Void isn’t on the brink of calamity. However, it is damaged badly, and I still don’t know what caused this.”

He considered telling Corvo about the other revelation: that the explosion came from inside the Void itself. It may have rejected him. If that was the case, he might not be able to get back. He could be stuck as a human permanently.

The thought made Ceòl’s muscles tense and heart race.

That didn’t seem right. He was missing something. And until he knew more, he didn’t want to get Corvo’s hopes up.

* * *

Samuel Beechworth was not a very good bartender.

However, the Hound Pits Pub was one of the few places where Ceòl and Corvo could expect any discretion from the proprietors. There was none to be had anywhere in the Tower.

Evenings spent together in a dank hole of a secret room were far from romantic, not that Ceòl minded. He valued security over sentiment. But, Corvo was human and had certain customs he was compelled to follow. Hence, an outing.

No one paid them any attention, despite his companion’s famous face. The clothes made the man, Ceòl supposed.

Corvo was dressed in a threadbare shirt and boots that were beyond worn. He walked with the slouch of a dock worker and blended easily with the working-class clientele.

They sat side-by-side and drank something that was supposed to be ale. There was an unpleasant salty taste to it, and Ceòl wondered if the finished product had been mixed with brackish from the river. He doubted Samuel or Cecilia would do that but, since the previous owners had, perhaps the patrons had come to expect the filmy bite.

“Indoor plumbing,” Ceòl mused. “That’s what you people need. You already have running water for your kitchens. Why not water filtration on a much larger scale?” He threw his hands up in frustration. “And indoor toilets! Chamber pots spread disease.” He pursed his lips in serious thought. “The sewers will need to be expanded to handle the increase in runoff, however. And we’ll have to consider the ecosystem of the river…”

“What are you going on about?” Corvo asked, eyelids heavy with drink.

“Civil engineering in this city is lacking,” Ceòl said. “When I am back… to as I was… I will finally visit Sokolov in a dream.”

Corvo raised a skeptical brow. “Oh dear.”

“I will plant the seed of an idea there,” Ceòl whispered and leaned in. “It will become his life’s mission to engineer a proper sewer system and install flushing indoor toilets throughout the city.” Ceòl perked his head up. “And sewage filtration as well! Runoff from a city this size would wreak havoc on the Wrenhaven.”

Ceòl grinned to himself as he thought it out. “Anton Sokolov will champion the Great Sewer Expansion of 1843. He will do some good for humanity that doesn’t involve horrific experiments _and_ his name will become forever associated with shit.”

Ceòl rose to his feet, a bit wobbly from the alcohol. “If he’d done it sooner, I would not have to piss outdoors. As I am about to do.”

Corvo hid an affectionate smile in his glass. “Hurry back!”

Ceòl waved over his shoulder and found his way outside. He tried to appear steady on his feet in front of the other men in the pub. And, he noticed, it was nearly all men who were present. There was one woman drinking alone in the far corner, but every time he turned to look at her, his vision blurred.

Was he that drunk already?

He relieved himself against the bricks of what was once Piero’s workshop. The building was abandoned now, but there were muffled voices coming from inside.

Another bar patron stepped up beside Ceòl to piss along the same stretch of wall.

There was an understood arrangement between men that had existed since the beginning of time: no eye contact. But this one had not received the memo.

Ceòl could feel the man’s gaze, heavy on the side of his face. Despite knowing better, he took the bait and turned to stare right back at him. Two could play that game.

Ceòl met the stranger’s eyes. He was terribly ordinary in every way, and Ceòl would probably forget his face as soon as he looked away.

He finished up and tucked himself away just as the man finally broke eye contact. Ceòl turned to walk away, the victor.

The man’s hand shot out, faster than should have been possible, and grabbed Ceòl by the arm. He was slammed face-first into the dirty brick wall with the stranger pressed flush against his back.

“Where do you think you’re running off to?” he asked, breath hot and sticky in Ceòl’s ear. “You can’t just flirt like that and walk away.”

Ceòl snapped his head backwards and connected with his assailant’s nose in a satisfying crunch.

“You little bitch!” he growled nasally through the broken nose.

The man grabbed Ceòl by the neck before he could even make it a few steps away.

Ceòl opened his mouth to scream but the man clamped a large hand over his mouth and pinched his nostrils shut.

He carried Ceòl kicking and scratching through the back door to the old workshop. Inside, there were three other men who stood around a stone table. Each held a chain.

The stranger heaved him onto the table, and the impact drove the air from Ceòl’s lungs. He tried to scream but made no sound.

The men wrapped chains around his wrists and ankles, and bound him to the corners of the slab.

They surrounded him, one at each corner, and tore the clothes off of his body as if they were tissue.

“No,” he pleaded hoarsely, and flinched away form their roaming touches. “Don’t.”

“What do you think is happening, Ceòl?” the first man asked.

Ceòl felt himself sinking, and it was then he noticed the stone table was changing shape.

It was a basin now, just deep enough for a human body. His hands and feet were chained to the iron rings at the bottom corners.

Saltwater filled the basin as he thrashed wildly.

“Corvo!” he screamed, just as his head disappeared beneath the rising tide.

* * *

Ceòl jerked awake in his bed at Dunwall Tower.

He stared at the ceiling, eyes wide and limbs trembling. Another nightmare.

He sat up and ran his hands through sleep-tousled hair. He gripped handfuls near his scalp. The sharp tug sent jolts of pain to the back of his head as he tried to focus on something other than the rising panic in his chest.

Ceòl forced himself to release the grip he had on his hair and focus on breathing instead. He inhaled slowly and counted the seconds it took to fill his lungs. He exhaled at the same pace and repeated the process until he felt himself return to normal.

He was too old to be having these juvenile episodes. It was only a dream.

Most of his nightmares were not that vivid, but this was the second one that had been particularly heavy-handed with symbolism and foreboding. At least he hadn’t dreamed about the Overseers this time. At least this dream didn’t feature Corvo dying.

Ceòl rose and poured some water from an ornate ceramic pitcher into the small wash basin in the far corner of his room. He splashed the cool liquid on his flushed cheeks until the fog of fear cleared from his mind.

Dunwall really did need to advance its infrastructure. He wanted a warm bath, but refused to wake a servant to fetch the water at this early hour. His guest room, though well furnished, was in an older wing of the Tower and sparse on Industrial Age amenities. 

Ceòl looked out the window at the horizon. The sky was greying at the edges with pre-dawn light, so it was unlikely he would be able to get back to sleep in time for the extra rest to make a difference.

He moved to the small writing desk and began to outline a lesson plan. He had a session with Emily the next day. It was to be proceeded by the meeting with High Overseer Windham, and Ceòl was going to show Emily how to deal with hypocritical zealots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's already tagged, but just in case- trigger warning for threat of rape/noncon


	8. Chapter 8

Ceòl tapped out a four-note melody on the piano as he waited for Emily to arrive for their afternoon lesson.

She learned quickly. There was room for improvement, but Ceòl was pleased with her progress. She had mastered most of the debate techniques he’d introduced in their short time together. Ceòl’s primary focus now was building Emily’s confidence. Articulate arguments and clever speeches were useless without it.

After what Emily had been through, she doubted her ability as a leader. Her childhood trauma taught her that power is only what others will allow you to wield. But the second lesson, that _she_ was the one people needed to wield that power, seemed to have escaped her notice.

Ceòl rose from the piano bench and bowed respectfully when Corvo and Emily entered.

Corvo left the entourage of guards outside in the hall, and smiled gently at Ceòl.

“I won’t be gone long this time,” Corvo told Emily. 

Ceòl knew these lessons gave Corvo an opportunity to handle business with his spies at a more reasonable hour than he was used to.

“Take your time, Corvo.” Ceòl waved a hand dismissively. “We have to prepare for Emily’s meeting with the High Overseer, and your presence makes her nervous.”

“It does not!” Emily squeaked.

“It does.” Ceòl looked her straight in the eyes. “The last time he sat in on our lessons, you were abysmal. I was embarrassed for you.”

He turned to face Corvo and made a shooing motion towards the window.

Corvo tried to force his face into a scowl but his eyes were bright and soft. “There’s only one item of business today. Then I’m coming back to take Emily to her meeting.”

He peered into the courtyard below and waited until the last servant disappeared inside. Once it was empty, he popped out of sight.

“And I shall prepare her,” Ceòl said to himself.

Officially, the meeting was to “clarify the Abbey’s authority” in relation to that of the City Watch. But the true purpose was for Emily to establish herself as a capable leader in the face of a political rival: High Overseer Windham.

In the years after Teague Martin’s death, the Abbey was led by a string of interim opportunists. One disaster after another weakened the inner circle of high-ranking Overseers until an un-noteworthy brother named Windham was able to rise to the position. Windham was unique, in that he had a much softer approach to the Strictures than his fellow Overseers. That changed as soon as he had a taste of power, however. Now, he was every bit as zealous as his predecessors.

That was unfortunate. He could have been interesting. 

Things had been tense between the Watch and the Abbey for years. Then, a few months ago, the Abbey’s men began lashing out at the populace of Gristol like a child having a tantrum. They were arresting civilians for heresy based on circumstantial evidence and doling out public punishments in Holger Square with unusual frequency.

The Outsider hadn’t been paying attention to Windham at the time, because the man’s zealotry had grown tiresome. So, Ceòl didn’t know why the High Overseer shifted policy so suddenly. But, he had theories.

Windham had been High Overseer for less than a year now. These bolds moves could mean he was trying to establish himself as a leader in the face of a rival Overseer. That seemed the most likely explanation. There were always power struggles within their ranks.

Regardless, Emily needed to stop the Abbey’s challenge to the City Watch’s authority, and by extension, her authority.

So, Ceòl briefed Emily on the relevant parts of the Abbey’s interests. He also informed her of Corvo’s status as a known heretic.

He was shocked to learn that she was unaware of most of it. Emily’s briefings all came from Umbridge, spymaster in name only, while Corvo kept his reports strictly confidential.

Emily drummed her fingers on the small table near the window as she absorbed this new information.

“What’s bothering you?” Ceòl asked.

“I’m just—” Emily stopped herself and sighed. “I’m worried about this escalation. It feels like it’s building to something. Men like that, they always want more.” She ran a hand through her neatly combed hair. “You’re certain they know about Corvo? It’s not just a rumor?”

Ceòl nodded solemnly. “I trust my sources,” he said softly. “The Abbey knows, but they have no proof.”

She raised an impeccably manicured nail to her teeth, but caught herself before she began to chew. Emily forced the hand back to her sides.

“I don’t understand why he has that mark or how it happened. He told me not to ask.” She hung her head. “And if someone doesn’t want to tell you something, there’s nothing worse than asking anyway and being lied to. So I haven’t.” Emily furrowed her brow and wrung her hands together.

“You want to protect him,” Ceòl said. “And you can, by putting the Abbey in their place. Windham is growing bolder by the day, and if he thinks you in any way weak…”

“He’ll take his chances with Corvo.”

There was much to do, but Ceòl had already laid most of the groundwork in their previous lessons.

Emily’s eye contact and voice projection were much better. While she occasionally slipped back into the habit of curling into herself, Emily was projecting confidence with her body language as well. But, there was a difference between giving an oral report to a tutor, an employee whose livelihood she controlled, and dressing down a grown man who commanded an army of zealots.

“The High Overseer will focus on blaming the people for their own ‘moral and spiritual weakness,’” Ceòl said. “The Abbey only sees the symptoms of the city’s sickness, not its causes.” Ceòl sighed wearily and stretched his back. “They know that people are flocking to worship the dreaded Outsider, flooding his ears with pleas and prayers, but the Overseers don’t seem to understand _why_.”

Emily whispered, “We failed them, and they’re desperate.”

Ceòl’s shoulders slumped and he smiled softly. “ _You_ haven’t failed them. But, yes, they are desperate for a sense of… control, I think. Most of the people seeking runes and charms in back alley markets don’t even like the idea of the Outsider. But, they need to believe there’s someone with a hand on the controls, even if they think that someone is malevolent.”

“Is he?” Emily turned her face to the courtyard where her father had transversed space as easily as walking. “Is the Outsider evil?”

“How would I know? I don’t worship him.”

Emily looked up with raised eyebrows.

“It’s true,” Ceòl said. “I don’t, and neither does Corvo. We simply… don’t _oppose_ the Outsider.” He examined the minute traces of dirt underneath his nails and added, “Things like good and evil are relative, anyway.”

Emily laughed. “Don’t say that around any Overseers.”

“I won’t,” he assured her. “But it’s an important lesson for you to remember privately. The Abbey treats ‘moral decay’ like its a battle to be won. Windham thinks the people are an enemy to be fought.”

“Hiram Burrows thought the same thing about the poor.” Emily’s face hardened into something very much like her father’s mask. “And we know what kind of ruin that thinking leads to.” 

“It’s far easier for the High Overseer to think the people have failed the Abbey, than to admit it was the Abbey that failed them.” Ceòl stepped in close and placed a firm hand of Emily’s shoulder. “You will remind him.”

The next two hours were spent fortifying Emily’s arguments and her confidence in them. They engaged in mock debates that tested Emily’s choice of words, the strength of her rebuttals, and mental agility.

Ceòl played the role of the High Overseer. He lowered his voice and bellowed commands. He feigned acquiescence to lure Emily into a false sense of victory. He even tried to trick her into admitting sympathy for heretics. She faltered at first, but quickly saved herself in each scenario. 

He reveled in the childish indulgence of playing pretend. It was not a luxury he’d had in his first life.

They were in the middle of practicing slippery slope arguments when Corvo popped back into the room.

“That took longer than expected,” Corvo grumbled and adjusted the straps on his coat.

“Anything important?” Ceòl asked.

Corvo’s gaze slid over to Emily. “Nothing we can’t discuss later.”

The spark of confidence behind Emily’s eyes began to flicker out. The more secrets Corvo kept, the more she withered.

“If the information is nothing that would harm Emily, why don’t you go ahead and tell me now?”

Corvo looked back and forth between Ceòl and Emily. “Why?”

Ceòl said nothing, simply nodded for Corvo to continue.

“Alright. Sokolov is acting off,” Corvo said. “The cleaning staff say he’s been coming in early every day and locking himself in the chemistry lab. He locks it when he leaves, too. No one goes in or out. Whatever he’s hiding, it’s unrelated to… our matter.” Corvo shrugged and leaned back. “He’s up to something on the side. But, it’s a headache for another day.”

Ceòl nodded, satisfied. “There. Was that so hard?”

“What?” Corvo pinched his brow.

“Sharing important information with your empress, I mean. You should involve her, Corvo. She’s more capable than you give her credit for.”

Corvo straightened his posture and crossed his arms. “Ceòl, just because we’ve become closer doesn’t mean you get to tell me how to handle my position. I’m protecting her by—”

“I’m sitting right here, Corvo!” Emily snapped. “Don’t speak to me as if I’m not. Today, I’m the one protecting you!”

It was a rare thing to see Corvo Attano with his mouth agape.

“The only matters of secrecy I hear are the lies spat at me by Umbridge every week. I can’t make decisions like this! So, you’re going to start reading me in on your reports.” Corvo opened his mouth to protest but Emily raised a hand to cut him off. “That’s an order.”

“I only wanted to protect you,” he finally admitted. “You deserve to have a childhood, not be sucked into matters of life and death.”

“Those matters are going to come to me anyway.” Emily stepped to Corvo and craned her head up to meet his eyes. “So, from now on, help me protect myself.”

* * *

Umbridge offered them the use of his office use for the meeting. Corvo had no doubt there was an audiograph hidden in one of the room’s secret alcoves.

Corvo looked at the small vent behind Umbridge’s desk. He had a fair idea where Ceòl was right now. There was little chance he’d not listen in. Besides, the Observation Room was the safest place in the Tower. Not even Corvo had known about it. If this meeting did not go well, he wanted Ceòl to be safely out of the Abbey’s grasp.

The High Overseer entered wearing a red jacket reminiscent of Campbell. He was followed by an Overseer wielding a music box. Corvo should have guessed Windham would have come to the meeting paranoid.

High Overseer Windham bowed to Emily with the bare minimum level of respect. His eyes locked onto Corvo with a gleam.

“Empress Kaldwin,” he said cooly. “And Lord Protector. I apologize my schedule has not allowed me to leave my duties earlier. The Abbey hasn’t had consistent leadership in some time, and the last year has been like herding cats.”

“I can imagine,” Emily responded, shoulders back and eyes relaxed. “Your predecessors did a lot of damage, and the Abbey is weak in the eyes of the people.”

Windham stiffened, but took the comment in stride. “We have had our problems, but so have most of the empire’s institutions. The Watch has—”

“Has recovered faster than the Abbey. An impressive accomplishment, given their greater losses to plague and attrition.”

Corvo fought to control his smile.

“With all due respect, Empress, that comparison is unfair. The City Watch is actively impeding the Abbey in the apprehension and prosecution of heretics. Every time they refuse to relinquish custody of a heretic on the grounds of ‘jurisdiction’, we fail to do our duty.” Windham smiled tightly. “I understand Captain Curnow feels his toes have been stepped on, but the moral fiber of this city is at risk.”

“And whose fault is that?” Emily held the High Overseer’s gaze.

“What?” Windham clenched his fists at his side before forcefully relaxing his posture. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“People are collecting bone charms like knick knacks. Why do you think that is?” she asked, as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

“I— Clearly, the Outsider is expanding his nefarious influence among the—”

“From the reports I’ve seen,” Emily interrupted, “most of the confiscated charms are junk. I doubt the Outsider is responsible for _counterfeit_ items.” She clasped her hands behind her back and squared her posture. “Any time there is a demand, people will figure out some way to fill it. So, what demand are these useless items serving to fill, High Overseer?”

Windham’s face twitched and he stared daggers at Corvo.

Corvo, however, couldn’t take his eyes off of his capable, ruthless little girl.

“No guesses?” she asked after a moment of pause. “Well, I have a few. After a plague, the murder of an Empress, and the rotating door of high-ranking officials in most of our institutions, the people have lost faith in us. They need to believe in something greater than themselves, and the usual avenues to fulfill that need have failed them.” Emily stood tall and confident, and took a step inside Windham’s personal space now. “They are clinging to whatever gives them a sense of control and stability.”

“You are correct that their faith has been shaken,” Windham stammered. “But this rise in worship of dark forces only proves that there are many who must be punished. If they can so easily turn their backs on the Abbey because times have been a little hard…” Windham trailed off when he saw the look of fury in Emily Kaldwin’s eyes.

“Hard? Times have not been ‘hard’ for the common people. They’ve been brutal,” she snapped. “People are latching onto something that feels safe.” She flipped a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “Now _obviously_ , such heresy is the very opposite of safe. But, what does it say about the people’s perception of the Abbey when the Void looks like a more reliable alternative to solve their woes?”

Windham narrowed his eyes at Corvo, as if he were somehow behind the tone of he meeting.

Corvo wished he was. But, it was another who had coached Emily for this confrontation.

“Empress,” Windham said, bowing his head dutifully. “You are absolutely correct. We’ve failed the people in many ways. But in order to best serve them now, the Abbey must have the authority to save them from themselves.” He straightened and attempted one last plea. “If you will allow us to accompany the City Watch on their patrols—”

“You seem to be under the impression that you’ve walked into a negotiation, High Overseer.” Emily’s voice was cold and clear, her posture almost military. “I permitted this meeting to be scheduled at your convenience only because the Abbey is in a fragile state, and you have much to repair. But you’re not here to ask things of me. I’m here to demand them of you.”

Corvo noticed the Overseer with the music box grip the handle of the device tightly in his gloved hand. Corvo made brief eye contact with the man and lowered his hand to the hilt of his sword. If they wanted a fight, Corvo didn’t need magic to kill them both.

It didn’t come to that, thankfully. Emily continued to command the conversation and, since Windham hadn’t come prepared to deal with a confident ruler, he acquiesced to her authority. The Abbey would respect the authority of the City Watch. Overseers on foot patrol or assigned to unauthorized clandestine operations were to cease immediately. 

Emily also secured an open invitation to tour both the offices of the High Overseer in Dunwall and the Abbey at Whitecliff. That was Ceòl’s doing, no doubt. He was making sure that if Corvo went to investigate, he’d have backup.

Against all odds, the meeting ended peacefully.

Windham excused himself with a tight bow and clenched teeth.

As soon as they were alone, the mask of Empress Emily fell away and her face split with a wide grin.

“I did it, Corvo!” she exclaimed. She threw her arms wide and launched herself, wrapping him in a hug.

“I knew you could,” he said. “You were wonderful, Emily.”

“When we were practicing, Ceòl pretended to be Windham. And I…” Her voice trembled. “I didn’t say it, but I pretended to be mother.”

There was lump in Corvo’s throat and he squeezed her tightly. “She would have been so proud of you today.” 

They didn’t linger in the spymaster’s office, and made their way to the dining room for a late supper.

Emily was all smiles as she was served, and Corvo’s chest felt swollen with pride. What a difference a few weeks could make.

“I’m glad Ceòl has been helpful,” Corvo said.

“I’m glad you found him, Corvo.” Emily waited until the last servant left the room and added, voice just above a whisper, “I mean that, you know. I’m glad you _found_ him.” She smiled cautiously and toyed with her fork. 

Corvo froze and struggled for words. “Emily, I— I don’t know what you think but, he and I, we—”

“It’s strange for me.” Emily adjusted her posture in the high-backed chair. “He can’t be older than 20, and he’s probably younger than that. But…” She placed her utensils down, manners impeccable. “You’ve barely smiled since mother died,” she whispered. “And now, you do a bit. It isn’t the same smile, but it’s something. So, whatever it is, I just want you to know, I’m alright with it.”

Corvo had nothing to say in response, his throat suddenly tight. He simply nodded and they finished dinner in silence.

A small weight from his chest lifted.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for thinly-veiled metaphors and heavy-handed dream symbolism!
> 
> (See end notes, for actual trigger warnings)

After dinner with Emily, Corvo went to see Ceòl in the Observation Room. They didn’t stay long. Corvo was in the mood to celebrate and he dragged Ceòl away from his charts. 

He manipulated time and space to sneak Ceòl, and two bottles of Tyvian Red, into his room. The Royal Protector’s room was next to the Empress’ Suite, which had guards stationed outside. The guards wouldn’t have prevented Corvo from entertaining a guest in his quarters, but it would be gossip on the lips of every servant in the Tower before sunrise if anyone saw.  

They reclined in overstuffed chairs in front of a welcoming fire as they sipped wine. 

“You should have seen her,” Corvo beamed. 

“I was listening. She handled herself well.” 

“She was so much like her mother.” Corvo blinked away the excess moisture in his eyes. “Thank you. I should have helped her years ago, I just—” He stared into his glass, then took a sip. “I’m not good with words.” 

“You’re not bad,” Ceòl said. “You just don’t use them with anyone but me.”

It was true. Corvo could go all day and speak fewer than a half dozen words to anyone. 

In the Void, it was easier. He could talk openly without worrying about spies or eavesdropping servants. He wasn’t concerned about revealing secrets to the Outsider because, chances were, he knew already. It was freeing. And once Ceòl arrived, he felt the same way, regardless of their different circumstances. 

“You were glaring at your charts of the Void earlier,” Corvo said.  

“I hate that those little scratches on paper are the closest I can get to seeing it now, but…” Ceòl took a long gulp of wine. “It is what it is. My mind can’t comprehend the Void anymore. And if I tried, I’d lose my grip on reality.” He gave Corvo an appraising look before he tore his eyes away. “You’re odd, Corvo. You never reached out to it when you were there. You just listened and let it flow around you. But, so many others try to grasp at it with their frail fingers.”

Corvo leaned back in his chair as the realization hit him. “ _That’s_ what drives them mad.” 

The Outsider once told him that it was hubris which drove some of his Marked people to insanity. And if they did what Ceòl was talking about, reaching out to the Void and hoping to understand its nature, they were lucky if madness was the worst fate they met. But then, being given power changed people. And if those people found themselves “chosen” and thought they were special, perhaps such ambition was the natural progression. 

“I must not have a very curious mind.” 

“Untrue,” Ceòl said, face in his glass. “But you have good instincts. You did well there.” He looked into the fire with an expression of serious contemplation. 

“Corvo, when I return to the Void, I will be different.” 

Ceòl tightened his grip on the glass and pinched his brows together in a way Corvo had come to know well; Ceòl was carefully weighing his words before a long-winded explanation. 

“I know,” Corvo said. “You don’t have to give a big speech about it.” He smiled to himself as he considered the companionship they shared before all this happened: entertainment, pleasant strolls, and confiding in each other. “Haven’t I been satisfied the last few years with the strange courtship you offered?”

“Court— courtship?” Ceòl sputtered. His eyes snapped away from the fire and over to Corvo.  

“Wasn’t it?” 

Ceòl scrunched his face adorably and sank back into his chair. “I didn’t think that deeply about it. I wanted to see you, so I did. You seemed amenable, so I continued.” He gnawed his lower lip. “But will you still be satisfied with that ‘strange courtship’ once I return?” 

Corvo answered without hesitation. “Yes.” 

“Oh, really?” Ceòl’s skepticism dripped from his tongue. “Once I am no longer a being of flesh and blood, I won’t…” Ceòl fidgeted in the overstuffed chair. “I won’t have the same instincts, and it may not occur to me to…” He scratched at the back of his neck. “The intimacy we’ve shared during my time here has been pleasant, but atypical on my part. Once I’m back…”

Corvo covered a smile with his wrapped hand as Ceòl fought for words. It was amusing to see him at such a loss, especially without cause.

Ceòl shot him a glare. “You are human,” he stated in a huff. “You have needs, both emotional and _physical_ , that I will not share once I’m myself again.” 

“Whatever needs you can’t fulfill, I’ll satisfy on my own.” Corvo stretched the fingers on his Marked hand and curled them into a suggestively loose fist. He could feel the flush rising on his cheeks. This would be his last glass of wine for the evening. “Don’t tell me you never watched me do it,” Corvo added with a smirk. 

The first time Corvo had taken himself in hand after one of his visits to the Void, he had the strangest feeling he was being watched. He imagined those black eyes were focused on his Mark as he pumped himself in his fist. The illicit thrill drove him over the edge more than a few times over the years. 

Ceòl tightened his jaw to control the grin threatening to spread across his face. “I admit nothing,” he said. “But, for most people, _that_ would not be enough.”

Jessamine said something similar, once. When their affair became a thing more of love than raw passion, she tried to end it for “his own good.” They could never be open about their love. It would always be a secret. What they had would not be enough for most people, she’d said. 

“I’m not most people,” Corvo assured Ceòl. “Besides, I’m an old man now—”

“Not that old,” Ceòl mumbled. 

“I’m old enough that I don’t need to get off very often.” 

Ceòl choked on his wine. 

“It’s true,” Corvo said. He straightened in his chair. “Why don’t you let _me_ determine what my needs are? If it becomes a problem, we’ll deal with it. Besides, you said the Void isn’t collapsing yet.”

“No, it isn’t.” Ceòl jiggled his knees. “It’s far more stable than I thought it would be. Which makes no sense.”   

“That’s a good thing, though. It means there’s no rush to return.” 

But Ceòl’s face did not relax at the thought of an extended stay among humanity. 

Corvo deflated in his seat. “You want to go back as soon as you can.” 

“I do.” Ceòl swirled the wine around in his glass. His stare was fixed for several seconds before he downed its contents. 

“Is being human really so inferior?”

Ceòl rose to refill his empty glass from the second bottle. They’d gone through the first bottle already, somehow. By the time Ceòl returned and resettled himself, Corvo thought the question would go unanswered. 

“Yes, it is,” Ceòl whispered into the wine. “I didn’t care for it the first time around. This has been a much better experience. But, despite regular meals and a warm bed, I don’t want to stay human longer than necessary.” 

Corvo didn’t understand, but he sighed and nodded his head. “I’ll pay the Abbey at Whitecliff a surprise inspection. If they’re doing any odd experiments with Void magic, it’ll be there.”  Of course, there was another possibility. 

“What about your Marked people?” Corvo asked, after a moment of hesitation. “I know you said you watch them closely but…” 

Corvo knew all too well that betrayal came swiftest from those closest to you.

“If I give you their names, you’ll find them. You’ll come face-to-face with them.” Ceòl’s head was hung low. “You don’t put two hounds in a pit unless you’re willing to lose one, Corvo. And I would hate to lose you.” 

Corvo supposed that was true. If he was able to find other Marked people, they probably wouldn’t want to have a friendly chat over tea. Although, Granny Rags had been perfectly civil, until she asked him to help make Slackjaw into a stew. 

Ceòl closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair, resigned. “I will give you a few names if we find nothing at the Abbey. I can promise no more.” 

“Alright.” Corvo returned to his wine. 

Ceòl turned his head towards him, and opened one heavy-lidded eye. “Just like that? No demands? No moral outrage about how these potentially dangerous people are doing who-knows-what, all because I got bored?”

“Is that why you do it?” Corvo asked. The wine was making Ceòl chatty. Corvo almost felt guilty about probing him for explanations in this condition. Almost.  

“Four thousand years of knowing what’s coming is so dull.” Ceòl slouched dramatically. “I created… ripples, here and there, to change the details. People are more interesting than empires anyway. It kept me… sane.” 

It did make Corvo uncomfortable, that these unknown people were out in the world, in possession of dangerous power. Power changed people. The mere possibility of ruling an empire turned the Loyalists into murderers. Corvo believed them when they said they stood for something greater than themselves. And perhaps they had, until they were tempted. 

And yet, with the enormous power of the Void at his back, the Outsider interfered relatively little with the physical world. He had the potential to cause chaos on an unprecedented scale. But he didn’t. If the worst he did was create “ripples” to stay sane, who was Corvo to judge? 

Although, one thing Ceòl said warranted further comment.  

“ _I’m older than the rocks this place is built on_ ,” Corvo droned, in a lazy imitation of something the Outsider once said. “The rocks are older than four thousand.” He pinned Ceòl with a feigned glare and a grin. “You lied about your age.”

Ceòl smiled coyly. “A lie of omission.” 

Corvo shrugged and leaned back, shaking his head in amusement. “If I’d known you were a young lad of only four millennia, I would’ve taken things slower in the garden. Waited until you were at least _five_ thousand before groping you. I feel like an old pervert.”

Ceòl’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes heavy. “Of all the words that have ever been spoken to me, _that_ is a first.” 

There was something hard and bitter in his voice as he said it. But just as quickly as it emerged, that darkness retreated. Ceòl shook his head clear and rose from his seat. 

The strut was probably supposed to be seductive, but he was too wobbly to do it very well. Regardless, Ceòl managed to slink over to Corvo’s chair. He straddled Corvo’s hips and boxed him in with arms on either side of his head. The look in his eyes was intense and confused. 

“My dear Corvo, it has been over a week and you haven’t tried to coax anything more than the smallest kisses and caresses from me,” he murmured. “Why is that, I wonder?” 

Were it not for the color of his eyes, and the fact that the Outsider would never have crawled into his lap, Corvo might have thought he was back in the Void. 

Corvo gripped Ceòl’s sides, and his thumbs traced Ceòl’s hip bones trough the thin pants he wore this evening. 

There was no lack of desire on his part. But it had been so long since Corvo felt soft displays of intimacy with anyone, he craved those more than sex. Somehow, he thought Ceòl already knew that. 

Voice barely more than a breath, Corvo answered, “Because you get this look on your face just before I kiss you. It’s soft, like your heart is stitching itself back together. I like to see that.” 

Ceòl’s eyes went wide and he buried his face in Corvo’s neck. 

“Too much?” Corvo’s gut clenched with worry. He was met with a groan against his shoulder and Ceòl tightened his arms. “It was too much. Forget I said it.”

Ceòl slowly slid back and unwound himself from Corvo. “It _was_ too much, but not in the way you think.” 

The kiss was sudden and aggressive, more teeth and tongue than Corvo was used to. Ceòl’s hands slid underneath his shirt and he felt short fingernails scratch a path down his abdomen. Ceòl’s hips rolled in a practiced rhythm against Corvo’s erection. The sensation made him shiver and moan into Ceòl’s mouth. 

 The stimulation was overwhelming and intoxicating. Corvo barely had enough wherewithal to reciprocate the attention he was being paid. Ceòl played his body like an instrument, hitting every note and some he’d never ever heard before.

He was so lost in sensation, it barely registered when Ceòl nibbled his earlobe and whispered, “Let’s take this to the bed.”

Corvo surged upwards and lifted the young man in his arms. His hands gripped Ceòl’s thighs and Corvo groaned when those long legs wrapped around his waist. 

Corvo made his way across the room and dumped Ceòl playfully on his back when they reached the bed. 

In the time it took Corvo to hurriedly pull off his boots, Ceòl already had his shoes gone and his shirt totally unbuttoned. 

He smirked at Corvo’s double-take. “I can strip in seconds. It’s one of many talents.” 

Corvo climbed on top of him and buried his face in Ceòl’s neck. He placed kisses along the pale column of his throat. 

“Many talents, mmm?” Corvo murmured into his ear.

“You experienced my second best bodily skill in the garden,” Ceòl replied, voice husky and rough. “Get me some more wine, and I’ll be ready to show you the first.”

Corvo paused above him. “Wine?”

Ceòl’s face was flushed and eyes determined. “Yes, Corvo. Go fetch it, and once I can no longer feel my extremities, I will show you things you have never even heard of.” He flopped back and wiggled out of his shirt. 

Corvo retrieved Ceòl’s glass. But he didn’t refill it with wine. 

Ceòl crinkled his nose when he raised the cup to his face and tasted water. “What is this?”

Corvo crawled onto the bed and sat with his back against the headboard. 

“Drink it all and sober up. Then we’ll see about you showing me those amazing skills.” 

Ceòl stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you even drunk?”

“Tipsy.” Corvo had been _very_ tempted to imbibe as freely as Ceòl. He almost had. “Now drink up.”

Ceòl did so with a look of deep confusion. 

Once he finished the glass, Corvo motioned to the pitcher on the side table, but Ceòl shook his head. “No more for now. We’ll see how I feel in half an hour.” 

Corvo pulled Ceòl close to his chest and the young man leaned back against him. “Are you angry at me?” Corvo whispered. 

Ceòl sighed and leaned his head back against Corvo’s shoulder. “You could be buried to the hilt in me right now,” he whispered back. “If only you had gotten that wine.”

Corvo groaned and he planted his face in Ceòl’s neck, doing his best not to grind his erection against his lower back. 

“And yet you insisted on… whatever this is,” Ceòl lamented, waving his hand lazily.

Corvo lifted his face and ran hands up and down Ceòl’s arms. “If you need the wine to go through with it, it’s not a good idea. If you want to continue once you’ve sobered up, I’m open to _anything_ you suggest.” He nibbled on the earlobe in front of him and gloried in the shiver that shot down Ceòl’s spine. “And if all you suggest is more of what we’re doing now, then that’s fine too. Whatever you want.” 

“I want to hear you cry out my name,” Ceòl slurred. “I’ve wanted that ever since I gave it to you that night in the Void.” He ran his hands up and down Corvo’s legs on either side of his body. “You touched yourself when you woke that morning, and I wondered if you’d bite it back between your teeth as you spent on your stomach.” Ceòl sighed. “But you didn’t.”

Corvo’s hands tightened on Ceòl’s shoulder. “I knew you watched me,” he moaned. The thought reinforced the tent in his pants.

“I like to watch things,” Ceòl said absently. “It’s how I was chosen.” 

Corvo held his breath. Was he talking about…?

He hadn’t pushed for details. He didn’t think Ceòl owed him the story. But now, with the wine, he seemed willing to talk. Corvo wondered if he should say something to stop him. 

“I want to tell you,” Ceòl whispered.

Corvo squeezed Ceòl’s hands and placed a kiss on the side of his face. “I’m listening.”

“When I was fourteen years old,” Ceòl began, “I was given a beetle colony as a gift.”

Corvo cocked his head. “A beetle colony?” 

“There was a species of beetle in Pandyssia that burrowed underground. They’re extinct now, but they created elaborate colonies with tunnels, storerooms and communal spaces. They had striking patterns on their shells. No one pattern was the same as another. It was popular, among wealthy families, to house them inside glass pyramids and gift them to children. 

“I was not part of a wealthy family. I had no family. I was already working. But, it was thoughtful in an odd way, and I accepted it, this… gift.” 

Corvo saw Ceòl smile at the memory, despite the small stutter on the last word. Something told Corvo the strange toy had not been given without expectation.

“I had a small room of my own where I worked, so I was allowed to keep them.” Ceòl laughed darkly to himself. “And, the proprietor didn’t want to explain why such an expensive gift was missing if that customer ever returned.” He shrugged. “It was too niche an item to sell at market, anyway.”  

Ceòl’s voice was small and sad as he said, “Getting to stare into their terrarium at the end of a long night gave me great joy.” 

Something cold and heavy settled in Corvo’s gut. “Where did you say you worked?”

Ceòl turned his head and planted a chaste kiss on Corvo’s chin. “Hush, Corvo. I’m telling a story.” He leaned back again and took a deep breath. 

“After countless nights of staring at them, I learned to tell them apart by the markings on their shells. I attributed personalities to them. A few of them, I even named. They ate food I dropped in, and drank the water I let drip in through the little top piece.” 

Ceòl’s hands waved about, imitating the lifting and dropping of tiny crumbs and water droplets into an invisible terrarium. 

It was heart-wrenching to imagine him so young and innocent. 

“One year later, the man who gave me the beetles returned. He asked for me specifically. When he saw that I still had the colony, that it was alive and thriving, he was…” Ceòl’s expressive hands stilled mid-air, and his voice went soft. “I wondered why anyone would be so excited to see beetles.”

Ceòl’s gaze was distant and Corvo thought he wasn’t going to continue. But after a moment, Ceòl’s eyes focused and he released a small breath he’d been holding. 

“You see, he gifted beetles to a number of other people, but none of those colonies survived the year. So, he asked what I had done differently from all the others.” Ceòl was stiff in Corvo’s arms. “This man had the kind of eyes that would _know_ if you were lying. So I told him the truth; I barely did anything. Aside from making sure the structure was clean and safe, and providing it the barest provisions, I just had fun watching them.”

Ceòl’s voice was tight and hoarse. “The beetles given to the others were not so lucky. Some caretakers cared so much about their charges that they helped them with everything. They opened and closed the pyramid sides to build tunnels, fill the storerooms, and help their favorite beetles. But, disturbing the their sealed environment wasn’t good for them.

“Others reveled in the power they’d been given over these tiny creatures, and found inventive ways to torture and torment them.” He let loose a small sigh. “Seems a terribly rude thing to do with a gift, though, doesn’t it?” 

“But, regardless of the intention behind the interference, benevolent or cruel, the result was the same. Dead beetles.” Ceòl waved his hands in a sweeping motion across the room. “All across the Seven Cities, beetle colonies fell and children failed the tests they didn’t even know they’d been given.”  

Corvo tightened his arms around Ceòl. “What happened to them? The ones who failed?”

Ceòl gripped Corvo’s arms and squeezed him back. “Nothing. They were passed over.”

“What happened to you?” he asked, quietly dreading the answer. 

“In the morning, the man purchased my contract. I became his personal companion.” 

Corvo didn’t realize he’d been gripping so tightly until Ceòl slapped his hands away. 

“Oh, stop that,” Ceòl gently chastised. “I was thrilled.”

“You were— why? He… you were younger than Emily!” 

Ceòl spun around between Corvo’s knees to face him directly, fire in his pale green eyes and jaw set square. “I was thrilled because the man was a merchant. He was allowed to travel. I would get to go with him and see new cities, meet new people, and try new food. I wanted to see new things, Corvo.” Ceòl’s eyes softened then, and his smile was oddly serene as he took Corvo’s Marked hand in his own. “And I did.”

Corvo stamped down on the impulse to hunt down and kill people who were already four thousand years dead. “He wasn’t really a merchant, was he?” 

“No, he wasn’t.” Ceòl shook his head solemnly. “But after the ritual he and his brothers performed, after I merged with the Void… they no longer mattered.” 

Corvo took a series of steadying breaths. It would do no one any good for him to rage about injustice and cruelty Ceòl had suffered. The fact that he was so blasé about his past abuse made Corvo’s heart break. But getting emotional about it might make him stop sharing. So, Corvo went a different route. 

“So, they chose someone based on who could take the best care of beetles? That’s an odd selection process.” 

Ceòl chuckled a bit and grinned. “It was not the only criteria. The beetles were the final interview, unbeknownst to us all.” He rolled his eyes. “Once I became the Outsider, I discovered the beetle test was probably the only factor which had any bearing on one’s aptitude. Fortunately, they made the right selection in spite of their incompetence.” 

The implications of that took a moment for Corvo to absorb. “So, they had to chose the right person? Their ritual might not have worked on someone else?”

“It almost didn’t work on me.” Ceòl averted his gaze and curled back up, this time at Corvo’s side. 

Corvo wrapped an arm around him, and hugged him tightly around the shoulders. 

“How are you feeling?” Corvo asked. 

“Marginally more sober, and strangely pensive,” Ceòl mumbled into his chest. 

He ran his fingernails gently along the planes of Corvo’s stomach, but the touch was fond and idle, not seductive. 

They stayed that way for several minutes, sharing gentle touches and growing heavy with sleep. When Corvo pulled the blankets back and eased them both under, Ceòl was pliant and warm. He curled into Corvo’s chest, eyelids already closed.

Corvo fell asleep with an unfamiliar sense of optimism. They had time to work out the details of whatever this was, no matter what obstacles would come. If nothing else, at least they had a little time. 

* * *

A small crowd gathered around a stone altar lined with carved whale bones. Overseers, City Watch, nobles, maids and servants formed a gauntlet on either side of him as he padded slowly towards his destination on bare feet. 

Four robed figures waited at the corners of the basin. The sounds of the Void echoed faintly through the Runes, calling him home. 

He would go willingly. 

Ceòl stood at the foot of the basin and fought the urge to run as hands tore the purple robes from his pale body. When he stood naked before them, the four priests guided him gently into the dip of the cold stone. His body was pliant as they chained his hands and feet to the iron rings. 

He would not fight the inevitable. 

His trembling limbs made the chains clank against the stone. Ceòl closed his eyes and took deep breaths to fight the rising panic. He focused on calming himself until the noise stopped.

Once he was no longer on the verge of tears, Ceòl opened his eyes and searched the crowd for a familiar face. 

Corvo was nowhere to be seen. It was for the best. He shouldn’t have to watch this. 

The hooded priests approached with large buckets, and Ceòl braced for the impact of cold saltwater on his skin. 

The warm tickling of dirt hit his chest instead. 

Ceòl jerked in surprise and the chains cut sharply into the flesh at his wrists and ankles. The smooth metal shifted into thorny vines that twisted and pulled. 

“No!” he screamed. “It’s water! Not earth!” 

More buckets of dark soil were dumped atop his writhing body. 

“Water and iron and bone!” he shouted. “This is the wrong element!” The thorns cut bloody paths into his skin as he tried to free himself. “You cannot spill blood for this! It won’t take if there’s blood!” 

“What do you think is happening, Ceòl?” a feminine voice asked from behind him. 

His body froze. 

The priests continued burying him alive as a figure walked confidently around the basin. 

Circling the altar like a vulture, Delilah Copperspoon locked eyes with he who was once the Outsider. 

Ceòl recognized the dream for what it was now. _A visit._  

“You tried to have me killed,” she reprimanded. Delilah stopped right in front of his bound feet. “Luckily, I had a backup plan. And five years of patience.” 

The dirt was up to his chest now. 

“It didn’t quite work out the way I hoped,” she sighed. “I knew it was a long-shot, trying to possess _you_. I’m not surprised the spell didn’t work. But, there was enough raw power to push you aside, which works just as well.” Delilah clasped her hands in front of her heart. “Thank you, by the way, for providing me with the last ingredient I needed for that spell: your name.” 

Ceòl went limp in his bonds as all the threads came together in his mind. He finally knew what had happened to eject him from the Void; he had been an overconfident idiot. 

He assumed Delilah was dispersed completely into the Void when she fell prey to Daud’s trick. But, a piece of her must have lingered. A seed. She grew like a weed and she waited. Delilah waited for five years. 

Then, Corvo asked for his name. It was such a human request, it was practically inevitable. And the Outsider gave in to sentiment, and entrusted him with a name that had not been spoken in over four thousand years. 

_“Cole? I butchered the pronunciation, didn’t I?”_ Corvo asked. _“It is close enough that I will answer to it,_ ” he’d replied. 

Delilah needed a _name_ to perform the spell, not a title. He gave her the one thing she lacked, and then he vowed to answer to it with the Void as his witness. 

The spell hadn’t worked, of course. You cannot possess something greater than yourself. But it had backfired spectacularly enough to kill the Outsider. And his absence gave her the opportunity to take root in his place. 

“I’m still trying to get my bearings,” she said, conversationally. “I’m not quite settled in. But, I think I’m a fast learner. Don’t you?”

Ceòl was shaking again. This time, with rage. “When I get back to the Void—”

“You won’t get the chance,” she spat. Delilah crawled into the basin on top of him, packing the soil against his sides, and drew a knife. Her smile was all teeth. 

“You’re not even going to wake up from this dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter the Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution tag applies to. It's nothing graphic, just sad, but fair warning just in case. 
> 
> Also, mentions of Voidy Voyeurism (the Outsider is kinky!)


	10. Chapter 10

Corvo stirred in the warm bed when he felt a tingling sensation in his left hand. Ceòl was using his outstretched arm as a pillow. He inhaled the scent of the young man next to him and basked in the peace of the quiet morning. 

Corvo was going to ignore the numbing limb and go back to sleep when he heard it; the eerie beating of the Heart. 

It was hidden behind a concealed panel in the wall near Corvo’s bed. He hadn’t removed it from its hiding place in years, content to know it was safe within one of the Tower’s many secret places. 

For an excruciating moment, Corvo thought of his confirmed worries; the Heart was Jessamine’s. A piece of her, an echo Ceòl had said, had been used to animate it. Did it know who he was with? 

The thumping grew loud and insistent, echoing in its tiny hidden chamber. Corvo opened his eyes not an instant too soon as a flash of silver crossed his vision. 

There was no time to think, only react. 

He threw himself in front of its path and covered Ceòl’s sleeping body with his own. Corvo’s vision bled white as the knife pierced his back below the right shoulder, and he choked back a scream. 

Ceòl startled awake beneath him and Corvo met his panicked eyes. 

“Run,” he grunted.

Ceòl scrambled out from beneath him but as soon as he had, Corvo realized there was nowhere for him to go. The attacker was between them and the door.

There was no choice. Corvo flexed his left hand. 

Nothing happened. There was no warm creeping of magic up his arm. He tried again, but there was only an instant to stare in horror. His hand was blank. 

The Mark was gone. 

Corvo reared back and kicked out hard at the person next to the bed, just avoiding the knife as it descended a second time and bit into the pillow where Ceòl’s head had been only an instant ago. He threw back the covers in a wide arc and tackled the assailant. 

It was a servant, one of the maids. She sliced out with the knife again but her form was sloppy and inexperienced. Corvo caught her wrist and squeezed until the knife clattered to the floor, but he had to use far more force than he would have expected. She was strong. Too strong for her size. 

The maid screamed and hissed as she tried to move forward. But her eyes were not focused on Corvo. He wrestled her to the ground after a short eternity and pinned her hands behind her back. The entire time she struggled, the woman kept her eyes locked onto the bed. She was staring at Ceòl. 

The door burst open and Emily’s personal guards bustled into the room. 

“Manacles!” Corvo called out as the woman bucked and twisted in his grasp. “Get me some damned manacles for her!”

Corvo saw their eyes dart back and forth between the struggling maid, their sleep-rumpled superior, and the half-naked young man in his bed. So much for avoiding Tower gossip. But, there were more important things to worry about. 

One of the stunned guards collected his wits and produced a pair of manacles after a long moment. 

Once the maid was properly restrained by irons and two grown men, Corvo rose wearily to his feet. The blood from his wound ran sticky down his back, and his right arm was losing sensation. 

Out in the hall, someone called for the Royal Physician. 

Corvo glanced behind him and saw Ceòl, still on the bed. His back was pressed against the wall and he was pale as a sheet, but he was unharmed. 

Corvo rounded on the guards. “How did she get into my room?” he demanded. 

They were stationed down the hall at Emily’s door. The assassin would have walked right by them both.  

“She said she was sent for, Lord Protector,” one of the men stammered. “That you… you sent word to laundry for fresh sheets.” The guard’s eyes slid over to the occupied bed and back to Corvo, and he flushed pink in his cheeks. 

Corvo gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulder and the disappointment in his men. “When in all my years have I ever requested fresh sheets before sunrise?” he growled. “How did that not seem suspicious to either of you?” 

“We did think it odd, sir,” the second guard replied. “But you’ve never had a, uh… a personal guest before.”  

Corvo fixed them both with a pointed glare. “Neither of you knew he was here.” He clenched his fists until the knuckles went white. “There are _protocols_ for this exact situation. ‘All unscheduled staff deliveries to this wing are to be intercepted and searched, after which the staff member does not proceed unsupervised.’ She was not supervised, nor was she searched.” 

“And you.” He turned his focus to the failed assassin, who was silent and wild-eyed. “Who sent you to kill me?” 

For the first time since their scuffle, the woman looked directly at Corvo. Her smile was half a snarl and she hissed, “The Outsider sent me. But, I wasn’t here to kill you. I was sent to kill your whore _._ ” 

* * *

They searched the maid and found a bone charm in her apron. That's what triggered the Heart to start beating within the wall, Corvo realized. If the Heart hadn't been that close to his bed, or if the woman hadn’t had the charm in her pocket, Corvo wouldn’t have woken in time to stop her. The blade would have pierced Ceòl's heart, not Corvo’s shoulder. 

Because there was magic involved, the Abbey had to be notified. By law, the failed assassin would be remanded into their custody. Corvo wanted to keep the occult involvement a secret, but the woman was in her cell screaming about the Outsider for all the guards to hear. Too many people knew about it for a coverup to be launched now. 

Their victory over the High Overseer was short-lived it seemed. Windham would use this as an opportunity to assert his authority somehow. 

Corvo hissed as a needle pierced his flesh and Sokolov began stitching the wound on his back. The Royal Physician looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. But his hands were steady, so Corvo chose not to comment. 

Emily had been allowed out of her suite now that the assassin was safely transported to the holding cells, and was doing her best to comfort Ceòl. 

Corvo cast a glance at him. He wasn't doing well. Outwardly, he appeared composed. He spoke softly with Emily and assured her that he was alright. But Corvo knew the look of someone whose entire world was just upended. There was an emptiness in his eyes that went deeper than mere shock. Ceòl hadn’t even been this upset when he’d arrived at the Tower, newly human and alone. 

Once Sokolov was finished stitching, Corvo saw him glance at the two new guards stationed in the room. 

The two men who had been on duty that morning had been dismissed for their negligence. No one, no matter their status, was to be trusted alone with the empress after this morning’s madness. Still, Sokolov dared to whisper.

“Corvo, I know you are a man who values secrecy. But, the assassination attempt on your guest will attract attention. You won’t be able to hide who he is for much longer.” 

Corvo’s eyes went wide for the briefest moment, until he remembered Sokolov’s theory that Ceòl was some kind of Pandyssian royalty. 

Sokolov smiled in assumed victory. “You should loop me in on your plans. Once you’ve healed, of course.” 

He bowed deeply to Emily, and briefly to Ceòl as well, before he left them. Anton Sokolov never did pass up a chance to ingratiate himself to potential sponsors. 

The amusement that should have been all over Ceòl’s face never showed itself, however. He stared straight ahead, face pale and features blank. 

“Corvo.” Emily rose and wrapped her arms gently around him, as much as she dared with his wounds.

“I’m alright,” he whispered and squeezed her back. 

“Is it true? The Outsider sent someone to kill you?”

“No. I— I don’t know.”  Corvo cast a glance to Ceòl. “The woman did have some occult items. But the truth remains to be seen, no matter what she was raving about.” 

Emily glanced down to Corvo's uncovered hand and her eyes went wide. 

Corvo nodded. "Yes, _that_ is a new development as well.” They couldn’t speak about his missing Mark with the guards nearby. 

“I was the target, Your Highness.” Ceòl looked up from his seat near the window. “The woman believes she was sent by the Outsider, but the truth is less glamorous, I’m afraid.” He ran a hand over his face. “This is the doing of…” He hesitated on the words. “We’ll call her a ‘political rival’ back home.”

Corvo tensed. Did Ceòl know more than he’d let on, or was this a cover story? 

Emily turned to face Ceòl, her posture straight and eyes narrowed. “Would this rival be the reason you came to Dunwall so suddenly?” 

Ceòl nodded and bowed his head respectfully. “I’m afraid so, Empress.”

Emily’s face softened. “You're under my protection, then.” She turned to Corvo. “I understand you need to see to Ceòl now. But we’ll speak more this afternoon.” She smiled at Ceòl. “I think I’d like another music lesson.”  

Once Emily left them, he turned his focus to Ceòl. He was sitting by the window and his stare was a thousand leagues away.  

“What’s going on?” Corvo asked softly. He knelt on the ground in front of where Ceòl was seated. “Why did that woman say she was sent by you?” 

Ceòl didn't answer. 

“How is my Mark gone?”

Ceòl's voice was distant when he finally spoke. “It seems the new Outsider removed it to give the assassin a greater chance of success.”

Corvo felt a pit in his stomach. “New Outsider? I thought the Void was empty.”

“As did I,” Ceòl replied. “But Piero's machine is primitive, its measurements are imprecise, and I was _wrong_.” He rubbed clenched fists over his eyes. “At least this explains why the Void wasn't deteriorating.” His voice trembled as he added, “It seems I’ve been replaced.”

Corvo’s breath left his lungs in a rush. Was that even possible? Would Ceòl stay human now?

“Replaced how?”

“My own hubris is to blame.” Ceòl looked down into his eyes. “One of my Marked people is responsible.”

“And you’re only telling me about this now?” Corvo asked, his rising anger evident in his eyes. 

“I only just found out!” Ceòl snapped. “I wasn’t hiding this.” 

“Then talk to me,” Corvo pleaded. "Tell me what's going on."

Ceòl’s eyes strayed to the stitched wound on Corvo’s shoulder, and he raised a shaking hand to it. 

“Years ago, I gifted a talented young artist with my Mark. She had the potential to go in so many different directions with it. I was excited to see what she would do.” Ceòl smiled to himself and shook his head. “To say she surprised me would be an understatement. Delilah expanded her possession abilities far beyond what she'd been given. She could possess objects and people without having to be near them. She also figured out how to possess people completely, not merely walk them around like puppets.” 

Ceòl gently traced his fingers along Corvo’s face. “She had plans to possess someone. And those plans would have done far more than create entertaining ripples. So, I was left with no choice.”

“No choice but to what?” Corvo reached up and entwined their fingers. 

Ceòl met his gaze, eyes resolute. “I had her killed.”

Corvo couldn’t hide the small gasp that escaped his parted lips. “I thought you didn’t interfere. I thought you let your Marked people operate with impunity on principle.” 

Ceòl stared at Corvo’s bare left hand. “As I said before, you don’t put two hounds in a pit unless you’re willing to lose one. I offered Daud the chance at redemption he so desired. I gave him her name and he hunted her down. He tricked Delilah into a possession spell that backfired. She was sucked into the Void and dispersed within it. Or so I thought.” 

Corvo’s heart twisted at the mention of that man’s name. As if there was any way to redeem himself after what he’d done. The only reason Corvo spared his life was because he wanted to prove a point. He was a better man. 

But this wasn't the time to focus on the demons of his past when there was a new one occupying his present.

"What did she have planned that was so terrible _you_ cared enough to stop it? Who was she going to possess?”  

Ceòl bit his lips and hesitated. "I wonder if you would have noticed the stranger staring out at you from behind your daughter's eyes? Would you have realized that Emily was no longer there? Or would you have attributed her changes to time and trauma?" 

It took a moment for the implications to set in. Emily. Gone. Possessed. And he would have never known.

Corvo’s pulse raced even as his breathing came in shallow gasps. 

“She was stopped," Ceòl assured him.

"Obviously not well enough if she's still out there! Is Emily in danger now? Will this woman try again?" Corvo half rose to his feet before Ceòl grabbed his arm.

"Emily is no longer the target. Now that she has the Void nearly at her fingertips, I doubt Delilah cares about one tiny human Empire."  

Corvo lowered himself back down. "You don't know that. You can't know for certain." He paused, replaying the last words in his head. "What do you mean _nearly_ at her fingertips?" 

“She came to me in a dream this morning.” Ceòl closed his eyes and laid his head against the back of the chair. “I think she’s been watching my dreams for some time. She was subtle about it, but if I think back…” 

The empress in the shadows on a throne of thorns. The woman in the back corner of the bar he couldn’t focus on. 

“She was there. In each one.”

“What did she say?”

“She did this. She caused the magical backlash that put me here. Although, that wasn’t the plan. The plan was to possess me. And I unwittingly gave her everything she needed to power the spell.”

Corvo stiffened and went cold. “What?”

“When you asked my name…” Ceòl sighed. “You weren't the only one waiting with bated breath to hear it. It didn’t work, obviously. The spell failed spectacularly.”

“Explosively,” Corvo added.

“Indeed. But now that I’m gone, she’s taking root in my place.”

“All of this, because I asked for your name,” Corvo whispered, his face falling. 

“You couldn’t have known,” Ceòl said. “Neither of us could.” 

He squeezed Corvo’s hands in his. “We have little time now. We cannot wait for her to ‘settle in’ any more than she has. It takes time to adjust to the Void, to learn how to see the possibilities clearly. The longer she stays there, the more accurately she will be able to anticipate how events will unfold. Then, we'll be at an even greater disadvantage than we already are.” 

Ceòl gulped thickly around a lump in his throat. “So, we’ll need to attempt the ritual tonight. Regardless of what state the Void is in, I have to go back and reclaim my place.”

“Will it work? If there’s a new Outsider can you simply… push her out?” 

“She wouldn’t have tried to kill me otherwise.” 

* * *

The Overseers came for Corvo during Emily's music lesson. 

They had been given permission to enter Dunwall Tower in such numbers because the heretic they were scheduled to transport showed signs of enhanced strength. But they were under orders to arrest two heretics that afternoon. 

Ceòl should have known Windham would leap at the chance. But he’d been preoccupied thinking about the ritual they were going to attempt that night. 

The guards at the door of the music room tried to assert their authority when the Overseers came, but High Overseer Windham was there to take Corvo personally. Overseers with music boxes flanked him as he barged into the room. They probably hoped to find the Royal Protector, or even the empress herself, engaged in something nefarious. 

What they found was Corvo fondly watching Emily and Ceòl plunk out notes on a grand piano. It didn't detract too much from the High Overseer’s joy when he made his announcement. 

“By the Authority of the Abbey of the Everyman, I hereby place Corvo Attano under arrest.”

Emily was on her feet in an instant. “On what grounds?”  

“Heresy. Which we will prove shortly. But officially, for violating the Sixth Stricture: the Wanton Flesh. And in the most unnatural and vile of ways.” 

Ceòl itched inside his own skin as Windham’s eyes raked over his body. The painted look of disgust on the High Overseer’s face did not disguise his lechery.    

Ceòl met Windham’s gaze unafraid and unashamed. “He did no such thing.”

It was the truth. But these men were not interested in the truth. 

Corvo seemed to think the same, as he said nothing in his defense. He raised a hand to call off the guards who looked ready to draw swords on the Overseers. 

“Stand down,” he ordered his men. “We will not shed blood here. Your duty is to protect the empress, not me.” 

“They are not taking you!” Emily shouted. Her lower lip trembled. 

Ceòl could see the war waging inside Corvo’s mind. Was this a plot to get rid of him so another assassin could strike? Should he fight this arrest? Or was _that_ the plan? Fighting a half dozen Overseers without the aid of his Mark could end in his death, and remove him permanently. Or, was this bad luck and terrible timing, unrelated to Delilah's plot? 

Corvo’s gaze landed on Ceòl and he smiled softly. “I’ll go with them.”

“No, you won’t!” Emily commanded. 

“Corvo…” Ceòl whispered. 

Corvo crossed the room to Emily and hugged her closely. Over her shoulder he locked eyes with Ceòl. "It's alright. I'm innocent and we don't want a fight here." 

"They don't care if you're innocent," Emily hissed. 

Corvo shot her a warning glare to silence her, and Ceòl understood why. It was best not to speak that way in front of the Overseers. While she did have authority over the Abbey, Emily was young and her reign was tenuous. Even a well-established empress could fall if key people turned against her. 

"Keep Ceòl close to you today,” Corvo told her. “Your guards are now his as well. And if I’m not back by tonight…" He looked to Ceòl. "There’s something he may need your help with." 

Ceòl's heart skipped as what Corvo was saying dawned on him. But the ritual wasn't something that could be completed with just anyone. Emily would not be able to do what was necessary. Though, Corvo didn’t know that. 

The Overseers put Corvo's hands in chains and paraded him through the Tower. Windham made as a big a spectacle as possible to celebrate his triumph. 

Overseers surrounded Corvo with weapons drawn and music boxes ready as he was escorted through the halls. Windham called for servants and guests alike to “stand back” and “do not approach” as if Corvo were some mad beast, ready to attack bystanders. 

Ceòl trailed behind them the entire way out to the front gates, unwilling to let Corvo out of his sight, until they shoved him roughly into a rail car and sped away towards Holger Square. 

Ceòl’s pulse and breathing were steady. He was focused in a way he hadn’t felt during his time as a human. He was once the Outsider. He had watched this world and its people for millennia. He had watched Windham back when the man was still interesting. 

And Ceòl knew the High Overseer’s dirty little secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we get to meet Darion!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for public interrogation and non-consenual drug use.
> 
> Know your Strictures! This chapter and the next reference them a lot. ;)
> 
> "Restrict the Wandering Gaze that looks hither and yonder for some flashing thing that easily catches a man's fancy in one moment, but brings calamity in the next. For the eyes are never tired of seeing, nor are they quick to spot illusion. A man whose gaze is corrupted is like a warped mirror that has traded beauty for ugliness and ugliness for beauty. Instead, fix your eyes to what is edifying and to what is pure, and then you will be able to recognize the profane monuments of the Outsider."

News of Corvo’s arrest had spread throughout the Offices of the High Overseer by the time their Rail Car arrived. Overseers and civilians crowded Holger Square to witness him being manhandled out of the car onto a raised dais. The entire area was designed to create a feeling of foreboding. The stark grey walls rose high and seemed to close in on the people within the square, as if they would be swallowed by the architecture. It made men and women feel small and surrounded— hopeless. 

Corvo’s mind was blank as two Overseers twisted his arms into the stocks and kicked him to his knees. The wound in his shoulder reopened as the stitches pulled apart, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. But the pain gave him something to focus on. 

Ever since the manacles clapped around his wrists, Corvo had been struggling to come to terms with his decision to submit to arrest. It seemed the only safe course of action at the time— he couldn’t risk a fight so close to Emily or Ceòl— but what if he was wrong? What if another assassin struck while he was detained with this farce? What if he had just gone willingly to his own execution? 

But they would need a confession for that. And if he survived sixth months of torture at Coldridge prison, he would not break here today. 

High Overseer Windham strutted to the dais and stared down at Corvo, smirking with victory. He walked a short circle around his captive. His gaze was assessing and cold. Finally, he turned his attention to the murmuring crowd. 

“Overseers! Citizens of Dunwall! Corvo Attano stands accused of heresy!”

The crowd’s collective whispers rose in a crescendo and echoed off the looming walls. Windham raised his hand for silence and the crowd’s cacophony grew to a muffled din. Of course, Windham would want an audience for this. 

“How do you plead, Lord Protector?”

“Not guilty.” As if Corvo would plead any other way.

Windham shook his head in mock-disappointment. “Now, now, Corvo. Need I remind you of the Second Stricture? I doubt a man like you can recite them, so I’ll refresh your memory.” Windham turned to the crowd and bellowed. “Restrict the lying tongue that is like a spark in a man’s mouth. It is such a little thing, yet from one spark an entire _city_ may burn to the ground.”

He paused for dramatic effect. Of course he did. 

“The father of a lie will suffer a punishment compounded by each person relayed it. Better to live a life of silence than unleash a stream of untruth.” He took measured steps as he recited the stricture, ending his sentence at a point somewhere behind Corvo’s back. “The echoes of lies come back as the voice of…” Corvo felt Windham grab his left hand, the one he had wrapped that morning out of habit. 

“… The Outsider!” 

He pulled forcefully on the leather wrapping and held Corvo’s hand high for the Overseers lined up behind him to see. 

Corvo restrained the smile on his face as Windham sputtered and cursed. He did not bear the Mark of the Outsider. Not anymore.

“How— where is it?” Windham tugged on Corvo’s arm, ripped up his sleeve, and pulled his wrist at angles that strained the joint. There was nothing. 

He landed a blow to Corvo’s face with a gloved fist. “His Mark! Where is it?”

Corvo spit a mouthful of blood at Windham’s polished boots. “Whose mark?”

“The Mark of the Outsider! The one you bear on your hand!”

Corvo made a show of twisting his left hand and craning his neck in the stocks to see for himself. “I don’t have any marks, Windham.”

“Then why do you always keep it covered?” 

Corvo looked him dead in the eyes. “Fashion statement.”

Windham’s fists clenched at his sides and a vein his forehead pumped visibly beneath the skin as the crowd tittered with laughter. He narrowed his eyes at Corvo’s challenge. 

“Strip him.” 

The Overseers advanced and cut away Corvo’s clothing methodically, tearing it away in long strips. The air was cool on his skin as each article was pulled free.

“Try not to violate any Strictures while you’re back there,” Corvo grumbled as one of the masked men cut away his trousers from behind. 

Finally, Corvo was naked for all to see. He kept his head raised and eyes fixed on the center of the crowd. He would not look ashamed or afraid. 

His wound from the morning’s attack seeped blood and ached terribly while gloved hands examined every inch of visible flesh. He had plenty of marks on his skin in the form of old scars. But, they would not find what they were looking for. What had nearly been his undoing this morning was saving his life now. Still, the “trial” was far from over. 

“Nothing, High Overseer,” one of the men said. 

“Impossible,” Windham hissed. He grabbed Corvo by his hair and pulled sharply. “Where is it?” 

“There’s nothing to find, Windham. Call off your witch hunt.”  

The fingers in his hair lingered, carding through it almost affectionately. Corvo felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. 

“Shave it!” Windham cried. 

Corvo hung his head and locked his jaw. He was not a vain man, but he did love his hair. 

Two Overseers cut away his locks in large chunks, and Corvo watched helplessly as handfuls fell to the ground in front of him. They removed the last of the the patchy stubble only to reveal nothing. No Mark there either. 

Just as they finished bearing the last inches of Corvo’s skin to inspection, a small section of the crowd parted before him. For a moment, he had the selfish thought that Emily had disobeyed him and come to his rescue. It was a risk he’d asked her not to take, but she had the right to assert her authority if she wished. 

But instead of his empress, Anton Sokolov appeared. He was flanked by two Overseers. The Royal Physician was not fighting them, but he didn’t come of his own free will if his face was any indication. Sokolov held a large metal case to his chest and stared daggers at Windham. 

“Good of you to join us, Anton,” Windham said cooly. “I hear you’ve been busy in your chemistry lab. I assume you’ve finally had a breakthrough on the commission I gave you last year?” 

Sokolov grumbled something under his breath but made his way to the dais. “It hasn’t been tested yet, High Overseer. I cannot speak to its efficacy. Nor do I recommend that someone of Corvo’s status be its first subject.”

Windham shoved Sokolov towards the stocks and motioned for him to open the case. “Your concerns are noted. Do it.” 

Sokolov kneeled in front of Corvo and opened the case. Inside were sealed tubes of liquid and a large syringe. Corvo’s muscles strained against the irons as Sokolov drained the first dose.

“I’m sorry, Corvo,” he whispered. “The High Overseer commissioned me to make a serum nearly a year ago. Something to loosen the tongue while keeping the subject lucid. It was supposed to be used in interrogations to force the truth out of resistant heretics.” He flicked the needle and checked for air pockets before he continued. “I was stuck for the longest time. Then, one morning last week, I woke with an epiphany and I’ve been working ever since. Unfortunate timing for you, I’m afraid.”

So maybe this Delilah woman did have some Abbey-related contingency plan for him? The timing of Sokolov’s morning epiphany was no coincidence. Whether he knew it or not, Anton Sokolov had finally gotten a visit from the Outsider— one of them anyway. 

Corvo jerked back and rattled the stocks as the needle drew close to his neck. “Damn you, Sokolov! Don’t inject me with some untested experiment.”

Sokolov hesitated, then looked around at the Overseers with drawn weapons. “I don’t think I have a choice. For what’s it’s worth…” He pressed the needle to Corvo’s neck and depressed the plunger. “I am very interested to hear what you’ll have to say.” 

* * *

Three Rail Cars with the Imperial Insignia sped along the tracks towards Drapers Ward. 

Rival gangs were no longer fighting in the streets, tearing apart shuttered businesses and homes. There was relative safety to be found here. But Draper’s Ward was not the shopping refuge of the elite any longer. It had transformed out of the ashes of the plague into a bohemian district. Artists, musicians, and anyone who existed on the social fringes of Gristol made their homes here. 

Among the Brothers of the Abbey, this neighborhood had a reputation for nonconformity. Residents of Draper’s Ward claimed that Overseers walked the streets in plain clothes, hoping to catch free-spirited citizens in acts violating the Strictures. Occasionally, they were right. But, at least one Overseer ventured in secret to this place for personal reasons. 

Emily sat still and stoney-faced on the pristine leather seat. Her eyes were focused out of the small window and she watched the scenery pass by in a haze.  

“I just let them—” Emily whispered, more to herself than Ceòl. “They marched into the Tower and took him. And I did nothing.” Her lip curled in a snarl. 

“He went willingly,” Ceòl said gently. “To protect you.” 

“He’s always protecting me!” she snapped. “I don’t care what stricture he violated. They can’t do this. I should just take the City Watch, march into Holger Square and—” 

“This way is better,” Ceòl said. “This way will avoid bloodshed. Hopefully.” 

She wrung her hands and looked back out the window. “How much further?”

“We’re nearly there,” Ceòl assured her. “And he didn’t—” He swept his gaze over the interior of car, eyes landing everywhere except on Emily. “We didn’t violate any strictures.”

Emily’s smiled shyly. “I gave him my blessing, for whatever it’s worth. You don’t have to lie.”

Ceòl sighed. “I wish I was lying.”

The cars pulled to a stop at the end of a row of shops. On the very edge was a hidden gem of a clothing boutique. Not many people outside this neighborhood knew about The Wandering Gaze. But it’s proprietor, a man named Darion, was bolder than most when it came to mocking the Abbey of the Everyman. 

Ads in the windows cited the First Stricture for which the shop took its name. In one such advertisement, a shabbily dressed man stood before a warped mirror. He stared at his mirror-self, who was dressed in finery. The text below read “Trade Ugliness for Beauty.”   

Emily and Ceòl stepped into the store, flanked by guards, and a bell attached to the door jingled obnoxiously to signal their entry. The shop was small, a bit cluttered in the corners and on the shelves, but the pieces on display were striking. The clean lines, bold patterns and unique silhouettes were unlike anything else in Gristol. The proprietor had a singular talent.  

An attractive man in his late 20s skipped out from behind a curtain in the back. He had a bolt of cloth clutched underneath each arm and long bangs obscured his vision. 

“Welcome to The Wandering Gaze!” he called out, struggling with his parcels and paying his new customers little mind. “Feel free to look hither and yonder for some flashing thing.” After a few moments he finally wrestled the bolts to their places behind the counter and turned to face them. 

Ceòl suspected it took several seconds for him to identify the finely dressed young woman whose features he’d probably only ever seen on posters. 

The instant he realized who his customer was, his eyes shot wide and he dropped to the floor behind the counter with a screech. After a few moments, the man poked his head up to peek at his new customers. He slowly rose to his feet, fumbled through a bow, nearly slipped into a curtsey for some reason, then bowed again. 

“Are you Darion?” Emily asked. 

“I am…” he said. Darion’s eyes darted from Emily, to Ceòl, to her guards and back again. 

“Darion,” Emily began, “I need your help.”

Darion’s eyes lit up like beacons and he slapped a palm over his heart in delight. “I knew someone would recommend me. I didn’t expect you to come in person! Oh! But of course you would! You would need to be measured! I suppose you could have sent for me to come to the Tower. But, I’m thrilled that Your Highness came down to see the shop. It’s an absolute mess at the moment. I’ve been so busy. I apologize for…”

He rambled on and on as he gathered bolts of cloth and measuring tapes, and piled them all around a very confused Emily. Darion would have kept on, had a guard not stepped forward and thrust an arm between him and the Empress when he tried to take her measurements. 

“I— what is going on?” Darion stopped and inhaled a shaky breath. “You’re… not here for a fitting. Are you?” Darion lowered his measuring tape and stepped back, eyes low. “Apologies. I misunderstood.” 

Gone was the flamboyant man from a moment before. Ceòl felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to one. I like what I see here,” Emily mused. Her gaze wandered to a fitted women’s waistcoat and a pair of knee-high black boots. “But there isn’t time. If you’re able to help us, maybe later you can rid my wardrobe of some ruffles and bows. My personal tailor still dresses me like I’m ten years old.”

Darion wiped a hand over his forehead. “Oh, thank the cosmos those ruffles are someone’s else’s sin. I didn’t know how to broach that subject. But um, of course, later. What can I help you with, Empress?” 

Emily nodded for Ceòl to take over, and he stepped forward from his position near the counter. She’d already informed her guards that anything they saw or heard was to not to be repeated, under pain of death. Ceòl hoped their oaths would hold. 

“Darion, I wonder how it is you can have such fine taste in clothing, and yet such terrible taste in men.” 

Darion paled and glanced nervously to the guards near the door. 

“They’re not Overseers, Darion. They aren’t interested in your bed partners. But your lover, Windham, has taken an interest in Corvo Attano’s.” 

Darion began inching backwards towards the curtain that led to the back room. 

Ceòl held up his hand in warning. “Do not run, Darion. They’ll have to chase you.” He motioned to the tensing guards. “I only want to talk.” Ceòl pulled two stools out from a side table and motioned for the tailor to sit with him near the counter. 

“I— I don’t know anyone named Windham.”

“You and Windham have been lovers for nearly six years,” Ceòl began aggressively before Darion could deny it. “Then a few months ago you renamed your shop to mock the Abbey. It was around that time that Windham began overstepping his authority with the City Watch. I can’t imagine the two are unrelated.” 

Darion hung his head and clasped his hands in his lap. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said softly.

“Did he double down on the lie he chose to live? Windham’s promotion to High Overseer became too much to juggle with along with your love affair, so he had to commit fully to one, and that one wasn’t you?”

Ceòl hadn’t been watching at the time, so he wasn’t certain, but those were the events that seemed most likely. 

Part of Darion’s nervous timidity slipped away as he raised his chin and locked eyes with Ceòl. “You’re wrong.” 

“Then enlighten me.” 

“I left him, not the other way around.” 

Ceòl lifted a dark brow, impressed. “Oh, really?”

“After his promotion I thought…” Darion sighed and ran a ringed hand through his long hair. “All the Stricture nonsense, he had to say those things. They took him as a boy and he never knew another way. But when we were alone, he wasn’t like that. He was softer and happier. He didn’t think what we had was ugly. And then he was granted the power to actually do something to change things!”

“Only he didn’t.” Ceòl knew the type. 

“He still wanted me. He said we’d have to be even more careful now, but he still came to me in secret as often as he could. And then…” Darion’s face hardened and his eyes drifted to the floor. “But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t keep on in secret, so I told him it was over. I changed the name of my shop, and he started in on trying to live up to Campbell’s memory.” 

Ceòl had the impression that was an extremely abridged version of events. But they didn’t have time to hear a long sob story. 

“High Overseer Windham has arrested the Royal Protector on charges of violating the Sixth Stricture, charges of which he is _sadly_ innocent,” Ceòl said. “But what he really wants is to force a confession of heresy. You were with Windham for six years. Tell us whatever you know about what he has planned.”   

Darion sighed and wiped his eyes with a trembling hand. He glanced from the Empress to Ceòl and back.  

“Please,” Ceòl said, voice soft. “Corvo is… a good man. He doesn’t deserve whatever misplaced wrath Windham has in store for him.” 

“Alright,” Darion relented. “Windham is convinced that Corvo Attano is a heretic. When Teague Martin became High Overseer, he told the high-ranking inner circle that Attano bore the Mark of the Outsider. But after everything that happened with the Admiral’s coup, most of the Brothers figured that Martin made it up to discredit a potential rival. But…” Darion gazed apologetically to Emily. “But Windham _saw_. He was on duty the night Campbell was branded a heretic. He saw Attano escaping through the backyard, popping from one rooftop to another like a phantom.”

Emily crossed her arms and shrugged. “Everyone knows that it was the Masked Felon who branded Campbell,” she said coyly. 

“And everyone knows who the Masked Felon really was,” Darion said, eyes tight. “Ever since that night, Windham has been obsessed with proving what he saw and avenging Campbell.” 

“Avenging him? Campbell was a monster!” Emily spat. 

“I know.” Darion’s shoulders were limp and he slumped on his stool. “But Windham came up in the ranks under that man. He admired him for some Void-be-damned reason I’ll never understand.” 

“What will he do to Corvo?” Emily demanded.

“Whatever he has to. But… Empress, if the Royal Protector really does have the Outsider’s Mark…” 

“He doesn’t,” Ceòl said sharply. “Whatever the rumors, there are no supernatural marks on him.”

Darion looked downcast. “Then Windham will find some other charge to make stick. He made the decision to take down Corvo Attano a long time ago.”

Emily stepped forward to stand between the two of them. “Will you testify to that?”

“What?” Darion jumped up from the stool and stumbled backwards. “Testify?” Are you insane?” He quickly regained his composure and stumbled through a pleading bow. “I— I mean, Your Highness, meaning no offense, please I just—”

“It’s alright,” Emily said. She spoke low and soft, as if to gentle a wild animal. “I won’t ask you to admit to anything that could get you into trouble with the Abbey.” 

Darion looked ready to bolt through the back room and take his chances with the guards giving chase. 

“He might not have to say a word.” Ceòl stood up and brushed the wrinkles from his pants, determined and focused. “But you will need to come with us, Darion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 should still go up next Sunday as scheduled, but chapters 13 and 14 will take longer. They are written, but they're a huge mess. They've been tweaked/edited/changed so much they don't make sense anymore. 
> 
> So I've decided to scrap them both and do a total rewrite. That's gonna take some time. I'm setting a tentative posting date of Oct 9 for Chapter 13 and Oct 23 for Chapter 14. Chapter 15 is just a short epilogue chapter and I'll probably post it along with Chapter 14. 
> 
> Here's hoping I can get this finished before D2 comes out!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When we last saw Corvo, he'd just been injected with Sokolov's mystery drug. Now the exciting conclusion!
> 
> Warnings same as last chapter: interrogation, nonconsensual drug use, homophobic language (in the form of public condemnation. but no slurs)

Corvo was bored. And hot. His rough shirt stuck to the sweat on the small of his back, and he fought the urge to lay flat on the cool tile floor while the new Overseer droned on.

The Overseer was new to Karnaca, and his sermons were not being well-received. Serkonan children didn’t respond to scare tactics like the youth of Gristol did. Their faces were blank and unaffected when he threatened them with being sucked into the Void or tricked into disobeying the Seven Strictures by the Outsider.

These street children had seen real darkness. Threats about the Void wouldn’t keep them awake at night. 

Corvo yawned wide and unashamed as the man went on to explain the way the objects of the cosmos influenced their lives. That seemed a bit far-fetched to him. The only cosmic object affecting his life was the one making him sticky and uncomfortable.

“What’s the sun made of?” Corvo asked.

“It— what?” the Overseer stumbled.

“The sun. What’s it made of?”

Either the Overseer didn’t know or it was a secret, because he tried not to answer. But when several other children perked up, for the first time in his entire sermon, and begged to know the answer as well, he relented.

“It’s fire, children. A large sphere of fire. Which is how it brings light and heat to us. Now, about the Seventh Stricture: the Errant Mind. When you find yourself—”

“What’s it burning then?” Corvo interrupted.

“What?”

“It’s a big fire. So what’s it burning? Wood? Whale Oil?”

“It isn’t— that is to say, it is a fire that doesn’t— it isn’t burning a natural earthy thing.” The Overseer was clenching his hands and looked ready to run him off.

“So you don’t know?” Corvo huffed.

Why did adults always do this? They only ever pretended to know things for show, but then never bothered to find out the truth.

The Overseer shushed him and continued on with his sermon. But, Corvo had already stopped paying attention.

As soon as they’d been dismissed, he ran home and sat out on the small window that overlooked the harbor. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was beating down on the city. Mother would be home soon and he’d need to help her around the house. While Corvo waited, his mind wandered, returning over and over to his unanswered question.

If the sun was a fire, what was its fuel? Surely someone had looked, hadn’t they? It seemed so basic. There were looking glasses that could see ships far out at sea. Someone had to have turned one on the sun.

Corvo didn’t have a looking glass. But he did have very good eyes. Perhaps if he squinted hard enough, he could see something.

He turned his face to the Serkonan sun and stared.

~~~~~~~~

“What is he doing?” Windham demanded. He ripped Sokolov to his feet by the lapels of his jacket. “I told him to tell us about the Void. Now he’s rambling about his childhood?”

Sokolov held his hands up in surrender. “Apologies, High Overseer. I did warn you the serum was _untested_. It’s designed to break down barriers within the mind. It’s possible this memory is related to your line of questioning… however, tangentially.”

~~~~~~~~

It certainly seemed like the sun was made of fire, the way it burned. Corvo couldn’t stare at it for more than a few seconds without searing pain in his head. Each attempt he made brought him no closer to answers.

He rubbed small fists against his eyes to clear the echoes of the sun from his eyelids. Corvo knew the answers were there. He simply had to look harder, stare longer, and then he’d have answers that no one else was willing to find.

He pulled back the lids of his eyes and held them open. This time he would succeed. He took a deep breath and angled his head upwards to the sun.

His mother found him a short time later with tears of pain streaming down his face and teeth clenched tightly. She squawked and pulled him back from the windowsill by the back of his shirt, dumping him on the dusty wooden floor. They didn’t have much money to spare but she scrounged up what coin they had stashed away for a doctor.

Once the physician confirmed there would be no lasting damage to his eyes, she tore into him.

“What in the Void were you doing?” she asked, eyebrows raised high in exasperation. “Staring at the sun to see what it’s made of?”

“I have good eyes. I thought I could see something no one ever saw if I just looked very very hard.”

Saying it aloud, Corvo realized how foolish it was. But everybody thinks they’ll be the one to crack the great mysteries where others have failed, and he was no different that day. But at least one important lesson was learned.

~~~~~~~~~

“I said, tell me about the Void, you heretic!”

“That’s what hurts them,” Corvo said, his voice monotone and detached. “Trying to see it. Trying to know it. They think they’re special for being there, and that they’ll come to understand it in a way no one has before. They’re always wrong. I know better than to stare at the sun. Maybe that’s why I could walk there and not lose my mind.”

Corvo’s vision swam and his thoughts scrambled to piece together where and when he was, but he kept losing his grip on what was real. His mouth formed words against his will. He had the oddest fear that the words leaving his mouth would cause something bad, but he couldn’t stop them. 

Someone was in his face now and he didn’t like it. A man shoved an audiograph close to him and he heard echoing voices. Why was there a crowd? Everything was blurry.

“What do you mean, Corvo?” said a man wearing fancy red jacket. “You didn’t lose your mind _where_?”

Corvo’s stomach dropped like he was falling. Or scared. But it made the words dry up momentarily.

“Tell us about the Outsider, Corvo,” the man pressed on. “Tell us how you worship him.”

Corvo laughed aloud and shook his head. “I don’t worship him.”

Something hurt his ribs. A fist. Then another.

“Lies! You do worship the Outsider!” the man in the red jacket screamed.

“You also claimed he bore the Mark.” Someone in a scary mask stepped forward from somewhere behind him.

“He did!”

“You’ve yet to show any evidence of that.”

The masked man’s jacket wasn’t as fancy as the red one, but he seemed as if he wanted to wear the nicer jacket.

“You arrested the Royal Protector on unsubstantiated charges of violating the Sixth Structure. But once you got him here, you began this unprecedented interrogation about heresy instead. This experimental concoction has rendered him barely coherent. And all of this in public, no less!” he hissed.

“Stand down, Overseer Logan.” The fancy jacket man was mad.

“Those rumors about the Mark were lies spread by Teague Martin right before Admiral Havelock tried to have Attano killed. Those of us who believed him at first, no longer did after his coup failed. And yet you persist.”

Other masked men were nodding in agreement now.

“Furthermore, can anything he confesses to even be trusted while he is under the influence of this drug?”

“That is the point of it! It forces him to speak the truth!”

But, before they could argue further, there was some sort of commotion. People murmured low and shuffled aside as the crowd parted in front of him.

* * *

Ceòl tried to still his bouncing knee as they pulled up to Holger Square. The crowd was swollen and packed tightly, bulging through the gates. That was a bad sign. That meant there was something worth watching.

He saw Emily struggle to maintain her mask of authority. Her trembling hands reached for the car door, but she restrained herself and allowed one of the guards to open it from the outside. She couldn’t afford to let her uncertainty show.

The unlikely trio exited the car and guards formed a wedge to make a safe path through the crowds for them.

Darion was a nervous talker.

“I should have dressed for the occasion,” he joked to himself in a hushed voice. “Maybe something red, really make a scene for him. Oh! I should have dressed Her Highness. Those boots you fancied are yours by the way, Empress. The shoes make the ruler, I've always said. Your mother was very stylish, but she had a kind of refined practicality to her. For you, I’m picturing a military queen aesthetic: polished high boots and tailored coats. Not unlike the men you're surrounded by, but dressed in a way that says ‘I wear it better!’ Not too much color, but an eye-catching pattern somewhere in the ensemble would—”

“Darion. Shut up,“ Ceòl whispered as they drew closer to the center of the madness. 

When they breached the densest part of the crowd, the source of the commotion made Ceòl’s heart plummet in his chest.

Corvo.

Ceòl almost didn’t recognize him. For an instant, he thought the Overseers were warming up the crowd with the humiliation of some poor wretch before the main event. But once he locked eyes with the victim of this public farce, the truth became clear; the main event was already well under way. 

Corvo was held in stocks on the dais before the crowd. He’d been stripped naked and his head shaved. He stared out at them with watering eyes.

At first, Ceòl thought he was close to tears. But Corvo’s glassy-eyed gaze was unfocused and his pupils too wide to be the result of emotion.

“He’s been drugged with something,” Ceòl whispered into Emily’s ear. “We need to end this quickly before he incriminates himself, if he hasn’t already.”

They came to a stop in front of High Overseer Windham.

Windham turned to them with a cruel grin and began to extend his hands in a mocking welcome. But, he froze mid-gesture when he saw who was among the entourage.

Darion stood just behind Emily’s right shoulder, and he returned Windham’s gaze daringly.

“High Overseer Windham,” Emily called out, voice clear and and commanding. “I was under the impression there was to be a trial, not a public spectacle!”

The High Overseer hesitated before answering. “This is the trial, Empress.”

“This is a farce,” she spat. “Corvo Attano is a Lord. The only reason he came with you, willingly and without a fight, was because he wished to avoid making a scene. But you have no such qualms, it seems.”

The Empress snapped her fingers and a guard appeared at her side. “Have him released and find something to cover him with,” she commanded briskly. 

Emily marched to the dais and guards cleared her path of Overseers as she made her way to Corvo. She stared daggers at Anton Sokolov who was kneeling at Corvo’s side, apparently monitoring his vital signs. A medical case lay open at his feet with vials of fluid inside.

One of the Overseers fumbled with some keys and looked frantically between Windham and Emily, unsure who to take his orders from.

“Release him now,” Emily repeated.

“Now just wait!” Windham cried. “We’re not finished.”

One of the higher ranking Overseers stepped into Windham’s path and Ceòl watched with fascination.

“I believe we are,” said the challenging Overseer. “So far, the Royal Protector has uttered only one phrase that made any sense. He denied worshipping the Outsider. He laughed at the very thought. If Sokolov’s serum does work, then he is innocent. If it doesn’t work, then nothing he says can be used against him until we understand its effects.” 

This new Overseer seemed reasonable, or more likely, he was politically savvy enough to see how this situation was going to unfold.

Windham marched up to Corvo, still not released from his bonds, and grabbed Corvo’s limp head. He pointed Corvo’s face into the crowd. At Ceòl.

“Who is that young man?” he asked, voice laced with desperation. “Speak into the audiograph and tell us what you did to him last night.”

Emily shouted that the proceedings were illegal and not to ask any more questions of Corvo. But Corvo was focused on a single point in the crowd. He locked eyes with Ceòl.

Corvo smiled, and Ceòl’s stomach dropped.

“That is Ceòl,” he said warmly. “Last night he had too much wine. He talked about beetles and then we fell asleep in my bed.”

“The sex, you filth! Tell us about the disgusting coitus,” demanded Windham.

Corvo, sluggish as he was, shot Windham a confused glance. “But we didn’t have any coitus. I haven’t had ‘coitus’ in over six years,” he admitted with a tired groan. “Most mornings my hand does well enough. Although last week—”

Ceòl shoved forward and climbed the platform in a few short steps. He slapped a hand over Corvo’s mouth before he could say anything further about his activities with Ceòl last week.

“Such talk is wildly inappropriate in front of Her Highness!” Ceòl cried, feigning prudish outrage. “He’s answered your questions. We don’t need to hear the rest.”

The red flush on Emily’s cheeks echoed his sentiment.

“Last night we met for drinks. It was completely innocent. I drank too much wine and fell asleep in his room, but nothing inappropriate happened.” A lie, and he kept his hand pressed over Corvo’s mouth to keep him from offering a corrected statement.

Windham narrowed his eyes at Ceòl and curled his lip. “I find it very hard to believe that you fell asleep half-clothed in Corvo Attano’s bed and nothing happened.”

Ceòl challenged his gaze and coyly replied, “What else would two men do in bed, High Overseer? I assure you neither I, nor Corvo, would know.”

Windham smirked and raised a hand towards Sokolov. “I want this one given the truth serum! We’ll see if their stories match then.”

Ceòl tensed and looked towards Emily but she was already intercepting the Overseers headed towards him.

“No one else is getting injected with any experimental drugs!” she decreed. “If the High Overseer is so confident in its performance, _he_ can be the one to demonstrate its effects.”

Windham froze and his eyes darted quickly to Darion, still standing at the front of the crowd. Darion stared right back at him, one eyebrow raised high in question.

Ceòl couldn’t help but notice that none of the other Overseers were fighting this change in the political tide. Windham’s men were not terribly loyal to him.

“Need I remind you of your strictures, High Overseer?” asked Emily. “The Seventh Stricture states ‘Two contrary thoughts cannot long abide in a man's mind, or he will become weak-willed and subject to any heresy.’ If you’re so certain that the serum forces a subject to speak _only_ the truth, a pious man such as yourself should have nothing to fear.”

Emily motioned to Sokolov. “Bring it here.”

Sokolov shuffled over, syringe in hand, as Windham backed away.

“What’s wrong, High Overseer?” she asked innocently. “I thought the serum was safe.”

“It—” Sokolov stuttered. “It’s untested, Your Highness. My apologies about Corvo. The Overseers raided my lab and I had no choice but—”

Emily silenced him with a glare. “I’ll deal with you later,” she said ominously.

She returned her focus to the High Overseer. “Afraid to be a test subject, Windham?” Emily made sure to meet the eyes of the other Overseers present. “Or do you have something to hide?”

“I— that is, of course not!” Windham stammered. “I live my life by the Strictures.”

Emily smiled cruelly. “Of course you do. So, I can only assume you are refusing to… partake… because you doubt the serum’s safety.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ceòl could see Darion cross his arms defensively over his chest, eyes locked on Windham. He was certain to be noticed by the other Overseers, but Emily kept her word about not making him testify. Darion’s presence as a silent threat was more than effective.

“And if the High Overseer has doubts about the safety of this experimental drug, as any sane person would, I can’t imagine why it was appropriate to have it injected into my personal bodyguard in front a crowd!” Emily exclaimed to spectators and Overseers alike. “You _will_ release him!”

The Overseer with the keys scrambled to comply this time.

The locks released with a clank and Ceòl did his best to support Corvo’s weight as he dropped forward, body sluggish and heavy. One of Emily’s guards procured a blanket and draped it carefully over Corvo’s naked form. Ceòl made sure it was wrapped tightly around him and tried to keep Corvo from saying or doing anything incriminating until they could get him safely out of sight.

Emily was throwing her weight around rather impressively now. City Watch personnel had arrived at Holger Square in force and began surrounding Overseers. Windham was pale as a sheet and the Overseer who was savvy enough to turn on him, Logan, was making grand apologetic gestures to Emily.

“The charges against Corvo Attano will be dropped!” Emily proclaimed to the people crowded into the square. “He bears no heretical marks and has violated no strictures. This was an abuse of power and I expect it to be investigated to _my_ satisfaction.”

The row of Overseers behind the stocks all nodded enthusiastically.

Windham would not be High Overseer much longer, if Ceòl had to wager a guess. But that was a process typically handled within the Abbey.

Her guards cleared a path through the crowd and Emily led the way, every bit an Empress, while Ceòl helped steady Corvo to walk behind her. He cast a glance back over his shoulder just in time to see Darion and Windham break eye contact with one another. There was something longing in Darion’s gaze but he collected himself quickly and ran to catch up with the departing group.

Once the five of them were safely within the confines of the Rail Car, Emily rounded on Anton Sokolov.

“You dare!” she yelled. “After everything my family has given you! If anything had happened to Corvo, anything at all I—”

“Your Highness! I sabotaged it!” Sokolov pleaded. “I gave Corvo more than triple the intended dose to reduce his lucidity, and render the confession invalid. It worked.” Sokolov quickly realized how little that statement was going to help him.

“Triple.” Emily whispered. She was deathly still. “You gave him triple the dose of a drug you had never tested. He could have been killed!” Emily snarled.

“They would have killed him for certain if he’d spoken lucidly about our otherworldly friend. At least this way, anything suspicious he said was called into question.”

Corvo scoffed and leaned heavily on Ceòl’s slender frame. “He’s not _our_ friend, Sokolov. He doesn’t like you. He thinks you’re boring.”

Ceòl slapped a hand over his mouth and turned to Emily. “He can’t go back to the Tower like this. Who knows what he’ll say, and we can’t count on the discretion of anyone who could overhear.”

“You’re right,” Emily said. She paused thoughtfully. “Do you know a Pub called the Hound Pits? Corvo trusts the owners.”

Ceòl smiled wide. “I’ve been there.”

* * *

The ride to the Hound Pits was quiet for the five people in the caravan’s center car.

After he re-stitched Corvo’s wound, Emily informed Sokolov that he was not to speak unless spoken to. So, the Royal Physician sat quietly and stared contritely at his hands.

So long as no one prompted Corvo to say anything, he seemed content to remain tucked in between Emily and Ceòl. He drifted in and out of awareness with his shaved head resting on Ceòl’s shoulder and a hand clasped tightly in Emily’s. His eyes were still unfocused and wet as his mind wandered. Ceòl wondered what memories he was reliving.

Unsurprisingly, it was Darion who finally broke the silence.

“He was giving a sermon when I first saw him,” Darion said. His gaze was fixed out the window at some distant point, but his mind was focused in the past.

“He was preaching in the Distillery District. I stood in the shadows, mocking the uptight Overseer in my head. But Windham said things about the Seven Strictures I hadn’t heard before. He said the easiest way to obey the Strictures was through helping people; the rest would fall into place if you just tried your best and forgave yourself for your failings. It made sense when he talked about it that way. It made me want to listen.

“I came up to him afterwards and we talked about it some more. I attended his sermon the next week and the week after that. It wasn’t long before… you know.” Darion’s flushed cheeks said it all.

“He confessed his love to me after we'd been together for a year. It was disguised as a sermon. He stood in front of a great crowd and spoke about the First Stricture. He said the gaze wanders most when a person isn’t fulfilled. Windham stared me right in the eyes and said that when a man finds someone that fills his heart with love, the eyes will never wander again. The flashy things and pretty faces lose all meaning on their own.”

Darion’s lips trembled and his eyes were glassy. “I thought, secret or not, I could be happy with a man who looked at me like that.”

“It wasn’t perfect, but we were happy. I thought I knew him.” Darion’s face darkened as he continued. “Then a few months ago I went to Holger Square to hear one of his sermons. It was the first one I’d attended in years. I wore a hood and covered my hair so he wouldn’t see me and get nervous.

“But the man preaching in front of all those people wasn’t my Windham. Not anymore. He said the most hateful things. He called the love we made the night before ‘unnatural and evil.’ He talked about eradicating deviants like me; like him.”

“Power changed him,” Ceòl supplied.

“Not that much, I think. He always struggled with his feelings for me, and I knew that. But I thought, if only I had enough patience, one day he’d come to love himself.” Darion dabbed at the corner of his watering eyes. “I knew he hated himself but I never believed he hated me— hated us— until that day. So I ended it, and I renamed my store in his memory.”

Ceòl’s confusion must have been plain on his face because Darion laughed.

“The Wandering Gaze sounds like I’m mocking him, I know. But, it’s a dedication to the man I thought he was.”

“Will he retaliate for your presence at the trial?” Ceòl wondered aloud. The unfamiliar feeling of guilt was a heavy weight in his gut. “Is it safe for you to go home?”

“If he hasn't sent thugs to kill me before, I doubt he will now. Especially since people saw my face in the square.” Darion played with the beaded edges of his shirt cuffs. “It would raise questions if something were to happen to me, I imagine.”

“Better for people to question your death than his life,” Corvo blurted out. “And he has more to lose now than before. He’ll probably kill you before too many question get asked.”

Ceòl guided Corvo’s naked head back to its resting place on his shoulder. “Thank you for your input,” Ceòl mused. “Although, he may be right, Darion. Windham could be driven to do something desperate if his brothers begin looking into you.”

Darion’s expression didn't change and he stared out the window at the passing scenery, eyes resigned. He'd likely assumed as much himself despite his hopeful claims to the contrary.

“He won't have the chance to get to you,” Emily announced. “You’ll be moving into the Tower shortly. You _are_ my new personal tailor, aren’t you?”

Darion snapped his focus to the young empress. “I— I am?” he asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“You are.” Emily smiled and leaned forward across the seat. “Tell me more about this ‘aesthetic’ you had in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's unfamiliar with Windham and Darion in canon, they exist in the form of a love note found in the Overseer barracks. It's only four sentences but my mind ran away with it.
>
>>   
> Windham,
>> 
>> Last night was wonderful. I am right at this moment imagining your arms around me, and your breath on my neck. I feared for our lives when your fellow Overseers found us, but you proved resourceful as always. And no, I won't take your slurs and threats personally, for I know you were merely trying to throw off any suspicions they might have had of us. I hope to see you again soon, perhaps in two nights when you have leave once more.
>> 
>> \- Darion
> 
> Such angst!
> 
> **Expect the next chapter to go up around Oct 9!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for trigger warnings!! Also, be prepared for some tears. (I'm sorry in advance!)
> 
> Thank you guys so much for being patient! And thanks to [akfedeau ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akfedeau/pseuds/akfedeau)for helping me polish up the sex scene!

Rail cars rarely traveled through the Old Port District, even years after the plague. You could still smell hints of rot wafting out of the sewers on humid days. Anyone rich enough to travel by private car avoided neighborhoods like this. So when Emily’s caravan pulled up outside the Hound Pits Pub, the front door opened immediately.

Ceòl gently shifted Corvo to lean against Emily in the car while he stepped out to talk to Cecelia.

“Hello again.” Cecelia greeted him with a nervous smile and sharp eyes.

Ceòl nodded his head in what he hoped was a respectful manner.

“We need your help.” He waved her over to the car and opened the door.

Cecelia gasped at the people inside and began fumbling into a curtsey, but Ceòl grabbed her arm.

“We don’t want to attract attention. Are there customers inside?”

“Y-yes,” she said. “At the bar, but nobody’s staying in the rooms.” She cast a glance at Corvo and her face paled. “I guess you need somewhere to lay low?”

“Is the attic available?” Ceòl looked back to Corvo who, naked and shorn, looked nothing like the Royal Protector at the moment. But they still couldn’t risk being seen.

Cecelia nodded and ran back inside. There was a loud cheering a moment later and Ceòl’s heart clenched tightly in his chest. But when Cecelia returned she was alone and waving them around the back of the pub.

“Samuel just gave a free round of drinks to everyone,” she said. “That’ll keep the customers glued to the bar while we sneak Corvo in the back.”

Darion and Sokolov stayed in the car while Emily and Ceòl did their best to drag Corvo to his feet. The guards took his weight once he was on the street and maneuvered Corvo around the back of the pub as Cecelia led the way.

The attic looked the same as it had a few weeks ago, but now a large grey sheet was fitted over the shrine in the corner. The guards holding Corvo walked right past it without a second glance and laid him gingerly down onto the cot by the desk, careful of the wound in his shoulder.

Cecelia pulled out Wallace’s old suitcase, still with some clothes inside, and placed it on a nearby table. “For when he wakes up. I’ll be downstairs if there’s anything else you need.”

Emily’s smile was tight and her posture rigid as she ordered the guards to wait outside the door. She’d been maintaining her composure admirably for hours. But she was still so young, and she’d finally reached her limits.

Once they were alone, Ceòl watched Emily move on shaky legs to the bed where her father was swimming in and out of consciousness. She laid her head on his chest and began to sob, gripping the blanket that covered him with white knuckles as she fell apart.

He faced the window to allow Emily some privacy. This place held bad memories for her. The attic room was supposed to have been a safe place. It was where Callista told her to run if there was ever trouble. This is where she’d come looking for Corvo after the Loyalists’ victory celebration, only to find scuffs on the dusty floor where the heels of Corvo’s boots dug in as his body was dragged away.

Emily had been young, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew what it meant, and it was no surprise to her when Havelock came to take her away.

Ceòl wondered if she was reliving those memories of helplessness now.

After several minutes Emily’s sobs dwindled into whimpers, then sniffled breathing. Ceòl kept his gaze out the window on the street below as her footsteps grew closer.

Emily sidled up beside him and stared at the same spot in the distance. “I could have had him executed, you know. Windham, I mean,” she said, voice still raw from crying.

“I half expected you to.” Ceòl kept his voice low. Corvo was still resting. “The City Watch was at your back, and the Abbey’s inner circle were fleeing from his authority before your very eyes. But you called for an investigation into the High Overseer’s leadership decisions instead.”

“I wanted to kill him.” Emily’s face was hard and her upper lip ticked.“I wanted to put him on his knees like he had Corvo on his. I wanted to end him for daring to come into my home and take my father.”

And there it was— a glimpse of the tyrant she could have been if circumstances had allowed it.

“So why didn’t you?” Ceòl wondered aloud.

She glanced back at Corvo, still mumbling to himself and delirious. “Because then I’d have to tell him what I’d done.”

Emily hung her head and furrowed her brow. “Sparing Windham was the smart choice. This way all the Overseers get to take a long look at how he did things, and at themselves in the process, and learn what not to do. How not to do it. An execution would’ve only taught them to fear me. But that’s not what I was thinking when the City Watch poured into the square. When I knew I’d won and I could do whatever I wanted, I wasn’t thinking about what was smart. I thought about what Corvo would do.”

She ran a hand over her smooth face, still too young to show the worry lines that would come to mark her in the future. “And now I have to go back to the Tower without him. Curnow is probably waiting. I’ll have to meet with him and Umbridge tonight. Sokolov says it’ll be hours before Corvo is back to normal and I have to go in there alone and be the Empress.”

“You’ve done well so far today.”

“Thanks to your information,” she replied.

“Yes, well, it’s my job to know things.” Ceòl did his best to suppress a satisfied smile. His eyes tracked over to Corvo and he he added, “Once Corvo has recovered, I will need his help. I’m leaving Dunwall tonight. But after he’s escorted me out of the city, I know he will rush to be at your side.”

“He was just starting to smile again.” Emily looked back and forth between Ceòl and Corvo. “And now you’re leaving?”

Ceòl sighed and stared at his feet. “He always knew I could never stay here.”

“Will he see you again?”

Ceòl cracked a smile and replied, “I may never be able to return here, but he will most definitely see me again.”

Emily hummed in thought. “Will you be safe where you’re going?”

“I’m not sure.” Ceòl averted his eyes. “But with any luck, my absence will mean no more assassins disturb his sleep.”

“Yes, because someone wants you dead. Because you’re a ‘ _spy_.’” Emily crossed her arms, pinning him with a questioning look. She turned her gaze to Corvo’s bare left hand that was resting at his side atop the blanket. “Funny how it disappeared just as an assassin sent by the Outsider tried to kill you. Only you’re awfully certain it wasn’t really the Outsider who sent her.” She smirked.

Ceòl stood motionless while Emily’s eyes bored into his.

A soft knock on the door startled them both out of their silent staring contest.

“Apologies, Your Highness,” said one of the guards, poking his head inside. “If the cars sit outside any longer people will notice them there. It’s nearly time for shift workers to be leaving their jobs for the day, and the streets are going to get crowded.”

Emily nodded. “I’ll be just one more moment.”

The guard slipped back out into the stairwell.

Emily sighed and leaned over Corvo. She ran a hand along his head and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you soon, daddy. Please be careful with whatever you’re about to do.”

Ceòl escorted her to the door, but just before they reached the stairs, Emily stopped short. She paced to the window overlooking Piero’s old workshop and waved him to her side.

“I used to sleep there, did you know that?” she asked, pointing to the ruined tower.

Ceòl shook his head, so as not to lie directly to her face.

Emily narrowed her eyes, and continued. “When the Loyalists had me, I lived in that dilapidated little tower. It wasn’t so bad. I could pretend to be an empress from that tower just as well as I could pretend in the real one.” She shrugged. “I had the oddest dreams there. At first, I thought it was the strange charm I found on the shore. I’d been keeping it under my pillow for luck. But even after I gave it away, I still dreamed about a man with black eyes.”

She turned to him and Ceòl could feel her searching his face for answers. Finally, she tore her her focus away and smiled knowingly.

“I hope you get home safely, Ceòl.”

She rejoined her guards on the other side of the door and Ceòl stared open-mouthed at her retreating form. 

Emily was young, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew.

Empress Kaldwin continued to impress him.

~~~~~~~~

Corvo would likely remain in a stupor for the next few hours, so Ceòl had time to prepare things.

He ventured into the stairwell and ran his fingers along the exposed bricks until he found one that was slightly loose. He pulled it free, and retrieved a handful of coin. Lydia used to take a few coins per week and stash them around the pub in case of emergencies. She wouldn’t be needing the money now.

He didn’t dare venture too far from Corvo, so Ceòl bought a box of baked fish and bread at a cart down the street, as well as a vial of cooking oil. On the walk back to the pub he passed a man pretending to lean casually against the entrance of an alley. His face was weathered and suspicious of the passersby, but he made subtle eye contact with them anyway. Ceòl approached the black market merchant and used the remaining coin to buy a few inert charms of bone.

He hurried back to the Hound Pits and checked Corvo’s vital signs. Still strong. That was good.

Corvo mumbled and cracked open an eye. “It’s you,” he slurred.

“It’s me.” Ceòl smiled softly and ran a hand across Corvo’s blank one. “You should rest. Let the drug wear off.”

“If I’d tried to grasp at it, would you have warned me?” Corvo’s eyes were still unfocused. “In the Void, if I’d done like some of the others, would you have stopped me? Or let me go mad?”

Ceòl’s ribs tightened and he trailed his gaze to the floor. But _he_ wasn’t under the influence of any truth serum, so he replied, “I would have stopped you.”

Corvo’s expression did something soft and vulnerable, and Ceòl couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. He would stop Corvo now, if he were ever so foolish as to try to comprehend the Void. That’s what was important.

“We’re your beetles, aren’t we?” Corvo gripped his hand and Ceòl squeezed back. “All of us.”

“I suppose,” Ceòl said. “But you’re my favorite.”

Corvo smiled wide and open, in a way he probably hadn’t since he was a boy. But then his focus shifted, became sharper, and his smile faded.

“Don’t create ripples for me.” Corvo stared Ceòl in the eyes and tried to sit up, but Ceòl held him down. “I mean it. If I’m ever in trouble and you have to hurt someone to help me, I don’t— I wouldn’t want that.”

Ceòl pursed his lips and fought the ache in his throat. “I won’t. There are limits to how much I’ll do, no matter how fascinating I find you.” He ran a thumb over the top of Corvo’s hand. “That must sound terribly cold, but—”

“No,” Corvo interrupted. “That’s good. You’re good.”

Ceòl shook his head. “No, I’m not. I’m simply not interested in causing chaos for the sake of it.”

“That’s close enough.”

Corvo raised his free hand to Ceòl’s face and Ceòl pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Rest now. You’re still delirious,” he teased.

He tucked the blanket securely around Corvo and waited a few minutes for him to fall back asleep.

Samuel and Cecelia were still tending to customers, so Ceòl took the opportunity to have a warm bath in the servant’s quarters. He filled the tub to his waist, still too unnerved by the echoes of his nightmares to submerge himself further, and began the familiar ritual of cleansing his body. The warmth seeped into his muscles and his eyes grew heavy. For the briefest instant, he forgot about the impending ritual and enjoyed this quiet moment to himself.

Ceòl soaked until the water was tepid and his skin wrinkled. He dried off with a threadbare towel and looked at his bath-warmed skin in the small mirror above the wash basin. For the first time since he’d become human, he took a moment to look closely at his body.

He wasn’t an adolescent anymore. His body was grown— barely— and he traced his broad shoulders. His thumb ran the length of his neck and pressed on his jawline, more defined than he remembered. He was a handsome young man.

That made Corvo’s refusal to bed him the previous night all the more unexpected. Ceòl used every trick he remembered from his previous life to enflame Corvo’s passions. It worked brilliantly. Corvo was reduced to a bleary-eyed, carnal mess within minutes.

Ceòl smirked at his reflection. His skills hadn’t diminished with time. And yet, the noble Royal Protector had refused a perfectly willing partner simply because Ceòl needed wine to cloud some bad memories. Corvo didn’t just want him to be willing. He wanted Ceòl to be certain.

Now he was.

He reached for the vial of oil.

~~~~~~~~

When Ceòl returned to the attic, Corvo was waking from his drug-induced sleep. He helped him to sit up, and Corvo ate a few bites of fish and bread while his head cleared.

“How do you feel?” Ceòl asked.

Corvo held his head in his hands. “I feel like I have the worst hangover of my life. But otherwise, I’m fine. I—” His eyes went wide. “The serum! What did I say?” He whipped his head around, and took in their surroundings. “Are we in hiding?”

Ceòl ran a hand smoothly over his head. “Relax. You didn’t say anything overtly incriminating. Apparently, one of the only coherent things you said during their questioning was that you _didn’t_ worship me.” Ceòl cast a sly glance to the covered shrine in the corner. “But we felt it best to bring you here until you came back to your senses.”

Ceòl examined Corvo’s pupils and felt the pulse in his wrist. They seemed normal. “Are you back to yourself?” 

Corvo nodded and leaned into the touch. “Thankfully. Damn Sokolov, and his concoctions.” His face scrunched in thought and he asked, “Did I talk about my childhood in front of a jeering crowd?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Ceòl laughed. “But I wasn’t there until just before Emily put a stop to it.” Anticipating Corvo’s next question he added, “She’s back at the Tower. Her guards are with her and Captain Curnow is probably thrilled with her newly developed leadership skills. She’s knows not to expect you until late tonight.”

“Emily was there. I remember now.” Some memory seemed to surface unexpectedly, because Corvo’s eyes widened and his cheeks flared red. “Did I tell everyone I hadn’t had sex in six years?”

Ceòl bit the inside of his cheek. “That much, I was present for. But, you didn’t name your last partner. Her reputation is safe.” The air grew heavy between them. “You did say something about the fine uses you have for your hand in the early hours.”

Corvo flopped back onto the pillow with an unexpected flair of drama, and threw an arm over his eyes. “Wonderful. The whole city knows I masturbate in the mornings.”

“It could have been worse,” Ceòl said seriously. “Much worse.”

Silence between them stretched on for a short eternity before Corvo whispered, “You’re leaving tonight.”

“I am.”

Ceòl pulled his loose-fitting shirt over his head, and the rustling fabric caused Corvo to peek out from behind his arm. Ceòl let his trousers and briefs pool on the floor beside the bed and straddled Corvo’s waist. Their eyes met uncertainly and Ceòl lowered himself down for a kiss.

It was soft and unhurried, the kind of kiss that spoke of familiarity and comfort. For the briefest moment, Ceòl felt light enough to float again.

“We don’t have to,” Corvo said as they pulled apart.

“I want to,” Ceòl said. “If you do.”

Corvo nodded and Ceòl pushed down the blanket to reveal the sculpted body underneath.

His muscles were the kind developed from years of hard training and practical use. Ceòl ran his hands across the expanse of Corvo’s chest and took a moment to appreciate him. He had a sinewy toughness that came with age. But he was also mottled with scars.

The Outsider wasn’t the first one to mark Corvo Attano. Coldridge Prison had left its signature on his body: a brand from a hot iron on his side, a shallow knife wound on his chest, the meandering trail of cigar burns on his abdominals.

The sensation of a crumbling pit in his stomach was fast becoming familiar. Guilt.

He couldn’t have stopped Corvo’s torture from happening— not without significant consequences. It was supposed to happen the way it did. Still, he could have done something to let Corvo know he wasn’t alone.

He imagined what it would have been like to visit Corvo in his dreams after a day of torture, and shelter his mind from from the pain for a few precious hours. He would have told Corvo to hang on a little longer— that there was a light at the end of his journey, that help was on the way. It might have given him some hope in the days before his escape, days during which he very nearly gave up.

Ceòl shook his head and chided himself for his sentiment. He could have done those things, but as the Outsider, he never would have. Temporarily lifting Corvo’s spirits wouldn’t have made a difference in the long-term. The Royal Protector’s survival was all that had mattered to him back then.

He leaned down and kissed each scar in silent apology. The muscles underneath his lips twitched and tensed at the attention and Corvo moaned low in his throat as Ceòl worked his way lower.

As Ceòl teased Corvo’s flushed cock, he heard him let out a muffled whine. Ceòl grinned as he licked and kissed his way down the shaft. When he ran a tongue over his lips to wet them, Corvo’s eyes locked onto him and it ignited a fire in Ceòl’s belly.

Ceòl took a moment to memorize every expression on his face— sweet, vulnerable and trusting. And then there was Corvo’s hand, big and firm on the back of his head, gripping his hair tightly, but not in an effort to push him down. Corvo was restraining himself. Ever the gentleman.

Corvo’s eyelids fluttered and he gasped through parted lips as Ceòl suckled the head of his cock. Ceòl stifled his gag reflex, a skill in which he’d always taken pride, and took Corvo to the root. He drew back and forth along the length, and set a familiar rhythm. Corvo moaned, rough and deep, and the blood pooled between Ceòl’s legs. His mind wanted, and finally, his body agreed.

“Ceòl,” he heard Corvo gasp.

He paused in his efforts, and Corvo pulled him off with a pop.

“I’m not going to last long if you keep that up.” Corvo’s hand, still twined in his hair, was stiff with tension as he resisted the urge to push him back back down. “And I want…”

He tugged urgently on Ceòl’s arm, and Ceòl knew what he wanted. He crawled up the length of Corvo’s body and kissed him deeply. There was so much to say, but no words existed in any language— past or present— that could ever communicate his intent like this.

After a breathless minute Ceòl broke away, the ghost of Corvo’s breath on his cheek, and reached for the oil. Corvo’s eyes widened as he realized what it was for.

“I’ve never…” Corvo began, but his voice trailed away. He looked from the oil, to Ceòl’s cock, and back again, as if he were trying to solve a logistical problem.

“It’s for me.” Ceòl pecked Corvo’s forehead. “Not you.” He dipped his middle finger in the oil and made a show of reaching behind himself. “I would enjoy the opportunity to reverse our positions, but… it’s our last night together. Not the best time to break new ground…” He paused and added, “For either of us.”

“Wait.” Corvo cut in before Ceòl could get started. “Can I?”

Ceòl nodded, cheeks burning slightly at the thought.

Corvo dipped his middle finger in the oil— as he’s seen Ceòl do— and reached underneath Ceòl’s legs where he was straddling Corvo’s hips. He hesitated a moment, then pressed his finger gently against Ceòl’s entrance. When he slipped in with no resistance, he let out a startled breath.

“I got ready…” Ceòl explained, and pushed down on the finger, “…in the bathroom… while you were asleep.”

Corvo worked in a second finger, and Ceòl groaned with pleasure. Corvo’s hands— he loved those thick, work-worn hands— began to work inside him. Ceòl spread his thighs, pushed back and shifted forward. Corvo thrust his fingers deeper— just right— and Ceòl’s heart pounded fiercely behinds ribs.

He felt a firm hand take his cock by the hilt and Ceòl jerked in surprised, a gasp spilling from his throat.

“Is this alright?” Corvo asked, in an anxious whisper.

It was more than all right, but Ceòl was overwhelmed. All he could do was nod.

Corvo curled his fingers inside him and hit Ceòl where he needed it most. It was too much. He threw his head backhand shook apart.

As Corvo worked him through it he heard himself whimper, small and helpless, and his head swam. The pleasure grew until his vision blurred and his muscles clamped down, and Ceòl gasped and came in spurts.

His legs gave out and he crumpled onto Corvo’s chest. And for a moment, all either of them could do was catch their breath.

After some time— moments or minutes, he couldn’t tell— he felt Corvo tenderly free his hands and wipe them on the edge of the blanket. He took Ceòl is his warm arms, and ran a fingertip up and down the back of Ceòl’s neck.

“Outsider’s eyes, just look at you,” Corvo said, breathless.

Ceòl let out a sudden and very unattractive snort.

Corvo laughed and kissed the top of his head. “Just an expression.”

Ceòl lifted his head to meet Corvo’s gaze. When he was a human, men’s eyes hadn’t stared upon him with anything kinder than lust. As the Outsider, people stared at him in awe or fear; sometimes it was both. Corvo smiled warmly and looked at him in a way no one ever had.

Ceòl pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, hovering over Corvo’s reclined form. With the wound in his shoulder, Corvo shouldn’t try any position that strained his arms. 

He reached for the oil, poured out a liberal amount into his hand, and slicked Corvo’s length.

Corvo’s eyes grew wide and he struggled to hold himself still as Ceòl pumped him to fullness again. But when Ceòl lifted his hips to take him, once again, he felt Corvo’s arm grip him at the thigh.

“Are you sure you want this?” Corvo’s face was etched with tender concern. “I don’t want you to do it if it’s only because you’re saying goodbye.”

Ceòl sighed and kissed the tip of Corvo’s nose.

“It is a goodbye, yes. But it isn’t only that.”

Corvo listened intently, seemingly to soak in every word.

“It’s sweet of you to demand such explicit consent.” Ceòl ran a hand along Corvo’s arm to sooth him. “But I know what I want.”

He lifted himself up again and with practiced ease, he slid down.

Ceòl grunted. He hadn’t expected it to burn that much. It’d been a long time since he was a virgin, but he supposed this body was. Still, Ceòl pushed through it because above all, he wanted to feel Corvo inside him.

He steeled himself against the discomfort and, once he was fully seated, it faded out. Ceòl spread his knees, arched his back, and began to ride.

His limbs tingled as he brought himself up and down, and his nerves sang in pleasure and pride when he heard the noises escaping Corvo’s lips. Small moans and whispers of praise— _yes_ and _void_ and _so good_ — swam in Ceòl ears. He savored the sight of Corvo, his eyes half-lidded and adoring, mouth breathless and broad chest heaving.

Ceòl grabbed Corvo’s hands and brought them his hips. “Go on, touch me. Don’t be afraid.”

That must have been all the encouragement Corvo needed, because his hands took off roaming like hounds left too long in a cage. They wandered along his legs, hips, chest and back.

When Corvo’s thumbs brushed across his pink nipples, pebbled in the cool evening air, Ceòl gasped despite himself.

“You like that,” Corvo growled. It wasn’t a question, and he pinched each bud in quick succession.

Ceòl keened.

His thrusts increased in force and Ceòl’s vision went white at the edges as Corvo nailed his prostate. As gentle a person as he could be, it was easy to forget the raw power and aggression Corvo was capable of. And Ceòl was on the receiving end of it in the best possible way.

Jolts of pleasure shot through Ceòl’s body as he rode. He tightened around Corvo like a vice and the older man tensed beneath him.

“Ceòl,” he gasped. “I can’t— Void, I’m close.” Corvo’s arms gripped Ceòl’s hips with bruising strength.

He angled himself back and let Corvo take control of the rhythm. The man had skill and Ceòl gave himself over to it. It felt right like this. Safe.

“Corvo,” he whimpered between labored breaths.

Hearing his name on Ceòl’s lips must have inflamed something inside him because Corvo grabbed Ceòl by the back to of the neck and pulled him forward into a bruising kiss. Ceòl groaned appreciatively and bared his neck when they pulled away for breath. Corvo dove in and sucked bruising marks onto the pale column of flesh that reddened and turned purple. His thrusts grew erratic and Ceòl pushed back to meet him again.

“Close,” Ceòl whined.

Corvo gripped Ceòl’s buttocks and drove home with focused intensity. He dug his heels into the thin mattress for better leverage and thrust upwards a few final times.

“Ceòl,” he pleaded. “With me.”

He nodded and he felt Corvo tense and pulse within him. The warm feeling pushed Ceòl over the edge as well, and he let out a long whine and pulsed his own release. He collapsed on Corvo’s stomach and they lay trembling each other’s arms.

* * *

It was nearly midnight by the time they borrowed Samuel’s boat.

They left him a note, though.

Ceòl pointed out where to go while Corvo steered, guided by the light of a full moon. Ceòl seemed to know the river almost as well as Samuel. It made sense, Corvo supposed. He’d had four thousand years to watch it grow and change shape.

He directed them farther and father out, past King Sparrow Lighthouse. They were close to the where the river met the ocean when Ceòl signaled for him to stop.

“This is the spot,” he said. “The energy should be sufficient for our needs.”

Ceòl’s face was ashen and Corvo could see him shaking slightly.

Corvo cast the anchor and sat on the bench alongside him. He ran his large hands up and down Ceòl’s arms to calm him, still uncertain what this ritual entailed. 

“Ceòl,” he said. The open water carried his voice further than expected. “What are we doing out here? I thought there was some sort of ritual to be performed.”

Ceòl stared at his hands for a long moment before he responded. “I am going to tell you a very closely guarded secret about magic, Corvo.” He raised this head and met Corvo’s gaze with tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. “All of the complex chants and intricately carved ornaments you see used in occult practices…” He laughed through a sad smile. “They’re nonsense.”

“What?” Corvo had seen Granny Rags draw elaborate symbols in blood and work incredible feats of magic.

“There’s no such thing as a spell that will be ‘ruined’ if you mispronounce a word. There is no ritual that will fail if you don’t precisely align your candles. Those things may help to focus one’s concentration or fortify the will of the spell caster. In that way, they’re useful. But they’re placebos.”

Corvo watched as Ceòl dangled his fingers over the side of the boat. He dipped them in and out of the water and the droplets fell from his skin.

“A magic ritual requires four things: the right ingredients, a source of power, clear action, and focus of will. Most practitioners don’t realize the bulk of their rituals are useless.”

Corvo let that knowledge settle into his mind. The implications of what they were doing in the middle of nowhere darkened further.

Ceòl withdrew his hand from the water and wiped it on his pant leg. “I have the iron and the bone stored underneath the bench. The water is around us. Those are the ingredients I need. As for the source of power…”

He stood and extended his palm as if to touch some invisible force. “Technically speaking, one can work magic almost anywhere because there is energy everywhere. But, it helps to be close to a strong source if you want to work powerful magic.”

“There are currents of energy that run beneath the world like veins. Where they intersect, nodes of power are formed. One of the most powerful in Gristol lies beneath the Abbey at Whitecliff. Another is under Holger Square. It’s no coincidence those locations were chosen for the Overseers by the Oracular Order.”

Corvo’s eyes widened.

“But, they couldn’t build fortifications above every source of power, and running beneath us is one I think will serve our purposes. The action and the focus will be up to you, Corvo.”

Ceòl lifted the seat on his section of the bench. He removed a thick length of iron chain and several bone charms that were clearly counterfeit, as they lay silent against the hull.

“A man was selling these in an alley near the Hound Pits,” he explained as he pointed to the charms. “They were astonishingly easy to procure. I wonder why the Abbey doesn’t do something.”

The widening pit in Corvo’s stomach kept Ceòl’s attempt at levity from making an impact.

Ceòl kneeled, clutched the charms to his chest, and closed his eyes. He went very still and began to sing softly— almost under his breath— in a language Corvo didn’t recognize.

It was soft and slow at first; serene really, like a longing lullaby.

Corvo found himself smiling and swaying a bit on his feet after a few minutes of listening. He couldn’t’ understand the words Ceòl was singing, but somehow he could feel their sentiment: a fond farewell.

Then, Corvo heard it. A hum that wasn’t human. His eyes snapped into focus and he gasped. The charms were singing and the air around them vibrated with the black energy he usually saw around shines.

“Focus of will,” Corvo said, astounded. Was that really all it took to create them? He staggered to think of how much wasted time and spilled blood had been dedicated to the creation of these artifacts by misguided practitioners of the dark arts.

Ceòl fastened the charms to the links of the chain with some thin wire. Then, to Corvo’s horror, Ceòl wrapped the chain around his waist and over his neck.

Corvo’s mouth filled with saliva and he fought the urge to be sick over the side of the boat.

“I know you hoped for something less macabre.” Ceòl avoided Corvo’s eyes as his trembling hands secured the ends of the chain together with a padlock. “Perhaps you imagined there would be a chant to float me away into the sky. Or a painstakingly carved idol to lure whales who would carry me off towards the horizon by moonlight?”

Corvo leaped for the key as Ceòl tossed it over his shoulder and into the outgoing tidal waters. His fingers missed by a hair’s breadth.

“You want me to watch you drown? How can you ask that?” Corvo spat. “How could you think I’m capable— if this requires clear action and focus of will, I lack both when it comes to watching the death of someone I care about!”

“What about when it comes to protecting your daughter?” Ceòl asked.

Now he did meet Corvo’s gaze straight on. Ceòl’s expression was as stony as the first time the Outsider came to him in a dream.

“What about her?”

“You were right this morning. I cannot be sure of Delilah’s intentions. I _assume_ she no longer wants to sit on Emily’s throne when a much larger prize is so close at hand. But I don’t know that with certainty.”

“Ceòl, I can’t—”

“Delilah has already driven one of your servants mad in her sleep,” he snapped. “Who among your staff will wake up tomorrow with a blade in their hand and murder in their hearts? Emily’s guards are loyal, but they’re only human.”

Ceòl stepped into his space, the chain heavy and clanking around his lithe frame. “Or Delilah might make another attempt at her original plan. The person who wakes in Emily’s bed tomorrow might not be your little girl. Are you willing to risk that?”

The thought of it made Corvo want to retch.

“You have to want me to go back,” Ceòl implored him. “However much you want to keep me, I know you want to protect Emily more. And you cannot protect her from Delilah. But I can. So use that. Focus on it.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he leaned down and kissed Ceòl tenderly. “Please don’t make me watch.”

Corvo stared in horror as Ceòl reached for his hand and wrapped it around the chain.

“I’m afraid you need to do more than watch.” Ceòl’s eyes were glassy. “Clear action and focus of will.” Ceòl twined his fingers in Corvo’s. “Someone has to make the sacrifice. If it were possible, I would spare you this. But, no matter how badly I wish to return, the human instinct to live is powerful. It won’t matter what my mind wants when my body is begging for air.”

Corvo stared at his hand wrapped around the iron chain. His legs threatened to give out.

“Why me? Why do I have to—”

“You knew me there. You have memories of the Outsider to draw upon.” He paused and added, “I trust you.”

“And if the ritual doesn’t work?”

Ceòl hung his head. “A risk you must be willing to take.”

Corvo’s hands shook and he fingered the links of the chain wrapped around his lover’s waist. “So I— I drown you, and you become the Outsider again?”

“Focus on what you want to happen. Clear your mind. Picture me back in the Void.” Ceòl pressed their foreheads together. “And then let me go.” 

Corvo choked on nothing.

After Jessamine, he never thought he would care for anyone again. What he felt for Ceòl wasn’t the same as what he felt for her. He couldn’t call what they had ‘love’— not after so short a time. But whatever this was between them, it meant something.

He told himself that this wouldn’t be murder. Ceòl wouldn’t be dead if this worked. He would be changed. Transformed.

“How will I know if it— will I know you’re back?”

“Once I return to the Void,” Ceòl said, his brows furrowed as he studied Corvo’s face, “I don’t know what I’ll encounter. I may not be able to come to you in your sleep tonight.”

“I won’t be sleeping tonight. Not after this.”

Ceòl hung his head. “I’ll come to you as soon as I can. I will let you know that I’m… alright.”

“And then?” Corvo longed to close the inches between them. But he was frozen.

“I’m confident that I can deal with Delilah once I return.” Ceòl’s stiff smile didn’t speak with the same confidence as his voice.

“Let me help you,” he pleaded.

Ceòl rolled his eyes. “How would you help me?”

“However I can.”

Ceòl ran his hands along the length of Corvo’s arms. “You’ve already been stabbed on my account.” He looked up and laid a hand over Corvo’s chest. “ _If_ your assistance is necessary, I will enlist your aid.” He smiled genuinely now. “Unlike you, I’m not afraid to use every tool at my disposal.”

The silence stretched between them.

“Hold me just under the surface,” Ceòl whispered. “Once it’s over…” He looked at the river as it flowed out to sea. “The tide will take of the body.”

Corvo lunged at him and crashed their lips together with the frantic need to erase those words from his memory. They held each other until they were both shaking.

“Do it, Corvo,” Ceòl said as he broke away. “Hurry before I lose my nerve.”

Corvo watched as Ceòl lowered himself over the side of the boat and into the inky water. His limbs shook so badly the chains around him rattled in the brisk night air. Corvo’s hands were not faring any better as he reached out with his blank left hand, and took hold of the wrapped chain.

Ceòl released his trembling grasp on the hull of Samuel’s boat and Corvo held him just above the surface. He could feel the weight of the chain trying to drag Ceòl down.

They stared at each other in the moonlight. Ceòl’s eyes were pleading.

“Do it,” he whispered.

Corvo closed his eyes. He pushed Ceòl under and held.

Tears flowed from beneath his closed lids and Corvo gritted his teeth to keep from screaming into the night.

He focused.

He concentrated on Ceòl—no, the Outsider—back in the Void. He pictured his friend with black eyes staring into him knowingly, cocking his head with detached interest among floating islands and frozen tableaus.

That was his home. That was where he belonged and where he wanted to be, watching empires rise and fall.

_The Outsider sat by Corvo’s side as they watched the foreign towers slowly crumble beneath the battering of the water._

Even as the Outsider, he’d demonstrated concern for Corvo’s wellbeing.

_“Self-destruction is such a predictable response to fear, my dear Corvo.” Corvo woke in the morning, not in the alley he’d passed out in, but in his quarters at Dunwall Tower. He still wore his clothes from the previous night. Whale song echoed in his head._

The Outsider was the one person in the last five years Corvo had come to trust. Granted, it was because the old god already knew his secrets and was indifferent enough to humanity that he could be trusted not to use them. But that counted for something in a life as lonely and isolated as Corvo’s.

And that trust had been reciprocated. The Outsider shared a secret with Corvo as well.

_“Ceòl.”_

That secret had gotten the Outsider killed. And now it was up to Corvo to help make it right.

He opened his eyes to the gruesome sight of his lover writhing beneath the surface of the waters and Corvo fought the impulse to pull him up. Ceòl had to go. The Outsider had to be created again. Someone needed to protect Emily from Delilah.

Ceòl’s pale face was like a beacon in the dark water. His eyes were shut tightly and even though he twisted in Corvo’s grasp, his hands gripped the bone charms tied to the iron links rather than to claw Corvo’s arms for freedom.

Corvo saw it when it happened. He came so close to pulling him up— so close to undoing everything. Ceòl opened his eyes. He looked right at Corvo. He opened his mouth.

He took a breath beneath the water.

Corvo wasn’t certain he saw it— he could be certain of precious little now— but at that moment he thought he saw Ceòl’s eyes flash black.

His grip on the iron chain loosened.

He shoved Ceòl gently into the current of the receding tide.

Corvo whispered, “Go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a death scene involving a major character. He doesn't stay dead...not exactly... hence why I didn't tag for Major Character Death. Magic rituals make life/death/mortality/immortality a very fuzzy concept. Still, a person does die at the end of this chapter.  
> ~~~~~~~~  
> I'll try to have the final chapter and epilogue posted around Oct 23rd like I promised. I've made some progress on the rewrite for Ch 14, so it could still happen. But there's also a chance it'll get pushed back to the 30th. I found out we have company coming into town later this week, and they won't be leaving until the 23rd. I do all my writing at night in those few precious hours after dinner and before bed. So, I won't be getting that regularly scheduled time to myself until they leave. 
> 
> In the meantime, check out my [tumblr](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/) for whining, #sneak peek of the final chapter, and status updates.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The big conclusion! Thank you guys so much for your patience. There's one more chapter after this, a short epilogue. It should be posted shortly.
> 
> Check the end notes for trigger warnings.

Corvo stood at the foot of his bed, eyes bloodshot and face pale with exhaustion. He glared at it with an intensity normally reserved for battle. After seven nights, he still hadn’t been visited by the Outsider; either of them.

He called out to Ceòl with his thoughts every night. Every morning he woke from a dreamless sleep.

Corvo’s hand remained blank.

When Corvo returned to the Tower that night after— just, after— Emily was waiting for him. She briefed him on her meeting with Captain Curnow and asked for his advice on dealing with Windham’s political rivals. She didn’t ask about Ceòl. The haunted look on his face said all she needed to know, he’d wager.

The official story was that Ceòl had been “let go” because Emily’s schedule no longer afforded her time for music lessons. The staff weren’t fooled, but they knew better than to whisper rumors to one another after a memorandum from Emily circulated the next day. It warned that anyone caught spreading malicious gossip, especially that which could result in _wrongful prosecution_ , would never work in Gristol again. The servants didn’t even dare to speak Ceòl’s name now.

Corvo was just grateful he wouldn’t have to answer any slyly worded questions about his missing friend.

Not knowing Ceòl’s whereabouts was driving him out of his mind. He almost went to a shrine last night when worry threatened to overtake him, but the risk was too great. For one, Windham was still High Overseer, although the legal proceedings for his removal were underway. But also, Corvo wasn’t sure who he would meet if he kneeled at one of the glowing altars.

A soft knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Corvo?” Emily called out.

He rushed to let her in. “Emily, you’re still awake?” That was unusual.

He’d been watching her for signs of possession all week. Every smile, every word, Corvo analyzed intensely. But, there was nothing to indicate she was anyone but herself. Even when she met with officials and practiced wielding her authority as the Empress— something he found incredible no matter how many times he watched it— the person behind her eyes was definitely his daughter.

She waved her guards away when they tried to follow her inside and, once they were alone, her posture relaxed. Away from prying eyes, she wasn’t the Empress. She was just Emily.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and finally asked, “I keep waiting for you to talk to me about what happened that night. But since you haven’t, I just wanted to ask if…” She hesitated. “Did he make it back to the Void?”

Corvo gasped. “How do— he told you?”

“I figured it out,” she said with a shrug.

Corvo was speechless.

“Your stories made no sense.” Emily huffed, and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He knew too much about too many things to be as young as he was. And there was no way he could have been _so_ certain that the Outsider wasn’t the one trying to kill him unless…” She scraped the toe of her shoes idly against the carpet. “I didn’t put it all together until just before he left, though.”

Emily reached for his wrapped hand, and her face fell when she lifted the material.

“He was supposed to let me know when he—” He flexed his hand, bare underneath the binding. He felt cold without the familiar warmth of tingling magic. “But there’s been no word. No sign.” Corvo swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “And there’s nothing I can do now, but wait.”

Corvo could practically see the flurry of questions racing through her mind. So, his face must have been a study in despair for Emily to do what she did next.

She hugged him and held fast while he fought to regain his composure.

After several minutes, he sighed broke away.

“Thank you,” Corvo whispered. “I know you’re curious but—” Where to even begin?

“It’s alright. You don’t need to talk about it right now,” Emily assured him. Then she smiled. “You’ll tell me when it hurts a little less.”

She looked so much like her mother— eyes soft and compassionate, set in a face that was certain and resolute. Corvo thought he would crumble to pieces, thinking about Jessamine now. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath to calm himself.

Emily took a small step back. “I’ll let you get some rest.” She kissed his cheek and rejoined her guards.

Corvo continued pacing in front of his bed.

Ceòl could be too busy taking care of things in the Void to contact him. If it was badly damaged, or if this Delilah person was more powerful that he anticipated, he could have his hands full. But Ceòl could also be in trouble, and unable to reach out. Or, despite what Corvo saw —a black-eyed corpse being pulled out to sea with the tide— the ritual may have failed. Ceòl could be dead.

His knees went weak and he caught himself on the edge of the mattress. One way or another, he just needed to know what was happening. So, tonight he took a chance and spoke aloud.

“Ceòl,” he whispered into his hands as he sat on the bed. “If you’re alive, if you’re back where you belong, I need a sign. Anything. I’m going mad not knowing if you’re—” Corvo’s tongue thickened around the word, unable to say it.

He couldn’t keep on like this much longer. He was a mess and this distraction risked Emily’s safety.

If he heard nothing tonight, he’d take the risk and visit a shrine tomorrow. He’d build a new shrine if he had to. And if he got desperate enough, he knew where to find two of the most powerful convergences of magical energy on the island. Corvo vowed to drape all of Whitecliff in purple cloth if he had to.

He crawled into bed, limbs heavy and hope dwindling.

* * *

Corvo opened his eyes to chaos.

He stood in a nightmare of stark light and contrasting shadows. The floating islands of stone were dark and cracked, sharp around the edges rather than worn smooth. Howling winds whipped across his face.

The Void was in turmoil.

Corvo shielded his eyes against blinding light in the distance and ducked behind a blasted pillar. Where there should have been clear expanses and a hovering leviathan, he saw only ill-defined shapes and silhouettes disguised by a thick mist. 

“Ceòl!” he shouted through cupped hands. “Ceòl, where are you?”

Corvo strained his ears for a reply, and heard the sound of rocks grinding together. Pieces of the island tore away and snapped into place at the edge of the drop. One by one, they aligned on top of each other to form a crude set of stairs a dozen steps high. They led nowhere, but the message was clear: follow.

Corvo’s stomach sank as he approached. He half-expected the stones to crumble beneath his feet as he trusted them with his weight, but they held. He was careful not to look down as each step behind him fell away and flew forward to form another piece of the stairs. Slowly, he ascended.

He reached another floating island that was barely held together within a pocket of calm. The howling winds twisted around this new island, but didn’t cross its threshold. It was as ruined as the rest of this place, but oddly quiet and still.

The stairs crumbled behind him as Corvo stepped onto the ledge. There was no going back now.

Two overstuffed chairs sat side by side in the center, a bottle of Tyvian red on the small table between them. Corvo’s heart was in his throat as he sat down in the familiar scene.

Time had no meaning in this place. Corvo was well aware of that. But, the waiting was maddening nonetheless. It felt like an eternity before anything happened.

The tingling on his left hand began slow and built to a burning crescendo. Corvo hissed with the pain, but his eyes and smile widened as the familiar mark reappeared.

“You were going to do something reckless trying to contact me,” said a familiar voice.

A scene shimmered to life in front of him. Corvo saw himself in an abandoned house, kneeling before a shrine to the Outsider. Two Overseers with music boxes were perched in the attic, ready to arrest him. Without his supernatural vision, and exhausted from worry, he hadn’t bothered to check up there.

Corvo watched as his other self, a version who had not been visited by the Outsider this night, was dragged away by the Abbey. Again. And for good this time.

“Now you won’t need to do anything stupid,” the voice echoed around him.

Corvo whipped his head towards the sound just as a figure materialized into the chair next to him.

The figure lifted his gaze and Corvo leaped out of his seat when their eyes met.

Green. Ceòl still had human eyes.

Corvo reached for him, desperate and relieved, but stopped short. Even though he looked nearly identical, this wasn’t Ceòl. He was the Outsider again.

“Are you— did it work? Are you back to your old self?”

The Outsider rose gracefully. “Yes and no,” he said, his head cocked. “It will take time for me to become the Outsider again. Or rather, I will become something very similar to the being you knew.”

Corvo raised a hand tentatively to the Outsider’s face, giving him time to reject the gesture. But he allowed it. Corvo could have imagined it, but he thought he felt the Outsider relax into his touch.

He released the breath he’d been holding. “Ceòl,” he whispered. He looked around at the ruined Void. “What happened here?”

The Outsider stared into the dark expanses of the Void. “Things have been set into motion that should not—” He sighed. “It shouldn’t have happened like _this_.”

His face pinched in concern and Corvo was taken aback by the strangeness of seeing human emotion on the Outsider’s face.

“Did Delilah do this?” Corvo dropped his hand and stepped in close. “Do you need help?”

The Outsider hung his head. “I will need a great deal in the coming years.” He raised his eyes to Corvo’s and they flashed black for a moment before fading back to green. “But for now, your assistance isn’t required.”

The Outsider stared at him with an expression that was hard to pin down: fondness and sadness. Corvo felt something tense within his core. He could always tell when bad news was coming.

“If anything,” the Outsider continued, “you need my help.”

The scene around them shifted and changed into the throne room at the Tower.

Corvo raised a trembling hand to his mouth.

Emily.

The throne room was in chaos— screaming nobles, panicked guards fighting one another, walls cracking under some supernatural force— and Emily, his little girl, was impaled on a thorny vine in the very place she was supposed to be safest. Her eyes were wide and face pale with death. Blood pooled around the base of the throne.

“No!” he cried, and stumbled forward as if to hold her.

The scene shifted again. More chaos in the Tower. But now Emily stood at the center of it all. A twisted grin painted her face as she fired a gun at a ragged prisoner pleading at her feet. It was Emily’s body, but there was someone else behind her eyes.

Another scene change and Corvo saw himself, hovering mid-air in front of Emily, taking a sword to the chest that had been intended for his daughter. His face twisted in agony as Emily screamed and tendrils of smoke wrapped around her legs.

“What is this?” Corvo demanded. He spun to face the Outsider. “Is this going to happen?”

“These are among the possibilities,” the Outsider said. His voice was detached, but his eyes wavered and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Delilah will come for you both. And very soon.”

“Then stop her!” Corvo shouted.

The Outsider lowered his gaze and said nothing.

Corvo gasped. “You can’t, can you?” He looked around at the blasted ruins of the Void and back to his friend. “You’re at war with her. And you’re losing.”

The Outsider squared his shoulders set his jaw. “My transition has not been as seamless as I’d hoped,” he said, tightly. “And it isn’t as simple as ‘stopping her.’ There are consequences to every action. Even mine.” The intensity in his eyes wavered. “Especially mine. Perhaps if I hadn’t interfered with her to begin with she—” He frowned. “No. That wasn’t an option.”

“So it was Emily’s throne all along.” Corvo’s shoulders slumped. “That’s what she wants.”

“Not just that, Corvo. Everything.” The Outsider swept his hand across the frozen scene of Dunwall’s throne room and the expanses of the Void. “Delilah wants it all.”

“What’s stopping you from fixing this?” Corvo pleaded.

“Delilah has learned secrets from the Void that will—” His eyes flashed black again, and this time they held their color for a few seconds before flickering out. “I can prevent some of what has been set in motion. But, not all of it.”

A wave of cold dread washed over him, but Corvo kept his spine rigid and face determined. “Tell me what I need to do. We’ll work together to fight her.”

“You don’t understand.” The Outsider’s cold facade wavered and, for a moment, he looked like Ceòl again. “A united front isn’t always the best strategy. Combined forces are stronger, but can also be wiped out in one fell swoop.” His voice wavered as he said “Sometimes, separation is necessary for survival.”

“Separation?” Corvo rocked back on his heels. “After everything we—”

Not again. Jessamine sent him away too. Her power was slipping and she sent him away. He returned just in time to watch her die.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” The Outsider said softly. “But any moves you make against Delilah now, will cause her to escalate her plans and it will endanger us both. Most of all, it will endanger Emily.”

Corvo’s heart turned heavy and cold behind his ribs. Emily. She was the priority here, not his love life.

“Fine. Then I’ll leave it alone. I’ll go back to Dunwall and trust you to handle Delilah.” He moved in close and stood nose to nose with the Outsider. “Do you understand that?” he hissed. “I will _trust_ you to handle her, and to tell me if you need help. But I swear to stay out of it if that’s what is safest for Emily. Just don’t…” Corvo trailed off, unsure of what he was even pleading for.

The Outsider’s face twisted with something unfamiliar: pity.

“Corvo, there is no possibility in existence where you don’t do everything in your power to stop Delilah. No matter how much I discourage you, you will try.” He pursed his lips and whispered, “And I will still be too weak to help you when you fail.”

The scene of the throne room shifted and Corvo saw himself alone in the Observation Room, hunched over the long table by lamplight. A dozen documents were spread out before him and, deep in concentration, the Corvo in the tableau didn’t notice the thin wisps of gas pouring through the vents behind him.

The scene shifted again. Corvo stood in a dark alley, hood and mask in place, as he watched two nobles exchange a white rose. As he moved in to confront the conspirators, their guards moved out of the shadows, glowing with magic. An ambush.

“No matter how many spies you have, she will have more. No matter how much you plan, she will be one step ahead of you.”

Corvo threw his hands up. “So Emily and I are doomed then? I don’t accept that!”

“There is a way. Delilah must think she has the element of surprise.” The Outsider’s face was set hard and his eyes flashed black again as he watched something in the Void only he could see. “But she won’t be fooled by feigned ignorance. You must be genuinely disadvantaged against her. Only then will she underestimate the situation enough for you to eventually gain the upper hand.”

“What are you trying to say?”

The Outsider started to bite his lip, but stopped himself. “You must forget. Emily must forget as well.” He smiled fondly. “She’s clever. She’ll figure something out if she knows about my Mark or the Void.”

Corvo was shocked into stillness. “Forget what _exactly_?”

The Outsider kept his eyes locked onto the expanses of the Void just beyond Corvo’s shoulder. “You must forget that there is a plot against your daughter. Forget that I’m in danger. Forget that I was ever cast from the Void to begin with.” The Outsider reached for his hand, but stopped just short of grasping it. “Delilah will delay her plans for you, and by the time she strikes, you’ll be ready.”

Corvo reeled. “How will we be ready if we don’t even remember she exists?” He breathed in sharply, and realized exactly what the Outsider was planning. “A suggestion,” he said, on a shaky exhale. “Like with Piero when you wanted him to abandon his project with that machine. Only…” Corvo’s mind raced with the implications. “You can’t just plant a suggestion that I prepare for a supernatural enemy and then disappear from my life. I’ll wonder where you are. I’ll try to find you. We’ve spent the last five years…”

And then it hit him. The Outsider meant forgetting about that time as well.

“No.” Corvo stood straight and raised his chin. “Absolutely not. You can’t take those memories.” He squeezed his eyes tightly and balled his fists. “I was half-mad after everything that happened with the Loyalists.” He clenched and unclenched his hands. “You gave me some solace, in your own strange way. And, if I hadn’t had you to confide in I—”

“Corvo,” the Outsider whispered. “Please.” His eyebrows were high and his face, disturbingly, looked pleading. “I won’t do it without your consent. But if you’re to survive…”

Corvo’s rage dwindled for a moment. Then he asked, “Won’t or can’t? This memory spell requires my consent? Is that it?”

The Outsider shook his head. “No. I could do this without your permission. But I would prefer if…” He hugged his arms across his chest, human-like. “We’ll see each other again one day. I hope. And when we do…” His eyes flashed and his face flickered with a succession of emotions, from hopeful to devastated. Then, black faded to Pandyssian green. “I know how it feels to have your choices stripped away. The thought of doing that to you,” The Outsider frowned, “gives me pause. So, this is your decision.”

He waved his hand across the horrific tableaus scattered around the island. “Make an informed one.”

Corvo stared at his possible futures, each more depressing than the last. The faces of his other selves were haggard and old, burdened by the knowledge of an enemy he couldn’t see, and a lover he couldn’t protect. He knew himself well enough to know how he’d react in the coming months and years. Unable to do anything to help Ceòl— the Outsider— and constantly on alert for supernatural threats to Emily, he’d be compelled to a level of hypervigilence impossible to maintain. He’d get sloppy. He’d miss something. Someone would strike.

“There has to be another way,” Corvo growled through clenched teeth.

“I have looked for one,” the Outsider said, avoiding his gaze. “And I’ve watched you die over and over.” His face twisted for only a brief moment before the Outsider regained his composure. “Delilah will only delay her plans if she has a good reason to underestimate you. I’ll give her more immediate things to be concerned about. You’ll have years to prepare. Otherwise, she will strike too soon, and the odds of survival are low for us both.”

The Outsider met his eyes, finally. “You sacrificed Ceòl’s life to create me, Corvo. Is it so much more to ask, that you sacrifice his memory?”

Corvo’s lip curled into a snarl. “There’s always one more thing to lose, isn’t there? Will it ever end?”

The Outsider closed his eyes, and bowed his head. That was answer enough.

But, for Emily, there was nothing Corvo wouldn’t give up. He made his decision.

“Fine.” Corvo’s hands fell to his sides, limp and heavy. He paced over to the armchairs and collapsed into one. “But I don’t understand how this will work. You’ll need to alter more memories than just mine and Emily’s. People knew you at the Tower. And there was the trial. Magic on that scale, even for you…” A glance around the blasted Void made Corvo’s heart twist. “How much will that weaken you?”

“I’ll be fine.” The Outsider smiled tightly and clasped his wrists behind his back. “As attached as I’ve become to you, I’m not self-sacrificing. I won’t do anything noble on your account.”

Corvo laughed darkly. “I’d expect nothing less.” He rolled his head back and rested it against the back of the chair. “You got what you wanted. You’re back in the Void, even if it is a mess.” He waved his hand towards the swirling darkness beyond whatever barrier was keeping it at bay, and sighed. “At least one of us gets to be happy.”

“Happy?” The Outsider hung his head and laughed. “I didn’t scramble to return here because I find happiness in this place.”

Corvo looked up, confused. “I thought you hated being human?”

“It was an inferior existence: frustrating and unsettling. But, for a short time I was happy, Corvo. I will always remember that.”

“At least one of us will.” Bitterness soured his tongue as Corvo said the words.

But the Outsider didn’t chastise him for snapping. Instead, he mused, “I wonder, when we meet again, will you notice the changes in me?” He cocked his head and extended his arms in a way that was very familiar. “Will you sense that the Outsider before you is a different incarnation? Or will you attribute the variance to time and fancy?”

“I’ll notice,” Corvo whispered. He held his head in his hands and released a shaky breath. “I might not know what to make of it, but I’ll notice.”

The silence hung heavy between them and Corvo thought his heart would beat out of his chest. There was too much to say and he felt too hopeless to say any of it. He wouldn’t remember if he did, after all.

The Outsider stood a few paces in front of him, head held low, as if he were mourning these last moments together as well. Corvo liked to think he was.

A loud crack startled them both out of their quiet vigil. Corvo jumped from the chair and spun towards the sound, but the Outsider was already in front of him.

A thick vine snaked its way around the edge of the island, as if probing the barrier that surrounded it for a weakness.

“What is that thing?” Corvo asked. “Will it break through?”

The Outsider’s upper lip curled slightly, barely noticeable, and the vine cracked and splintered as it encroached upon their sanctuary. The shattered pieces of it were carried away by the whirlwind outside.

“No,” the Outsider said, voice low and dark. “But there’s little time now. You should leave.”

Corvo leaned down several inches to level their faces and gently pressed his lips to the Outsider’s. The kiss was slow and lingering as he threaded one hand into the Outsider’s hair and another gripped his hip. Corvo wanted to drag it out as long as possible.

The Outsider stiffened in his arms, unresponsive and cold. Corvo’s heart sank and he began to pull away. But before he could separate, the Outsider’s hands shot out and pulled him back, deepening the kiss.

Corvo grumbled low in his chest, satisfied to still have some effect.

“Unexpected,” the Outsider whispered, wide-eyed, as their lips parted.

He looked so much like Ceòl had in the garden that night. Another memory he wouldn’t have after this.

“You didn’t expect me to kiss you?” Corvo murmured against the shell of his ear. The god shivered at his touch.

“I didn’t expect to still like it,” the Outsider replied breathily.

“Ceòl…”

“That isn’t my name,” he said. His voice was soft, yet it echoed into the shadows around them. “Not anymore.”

The Outsider wasn’t speaking to him, but to the Void. Corvo understood. This was a proclamation. A decree. He was no longer Ceòl. That name would not be used against him again.

The Outsider took a small step backwards. “I grow bored of staring at futures without you in them. Forget about Delilah and my time as Ceòl.”

Corvo closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. There was a tingling in the back of his head, whispers in the dark and threads of new ideas being spun into thoughts. This was it.

The Outsider raised a pale hand to his face. Corvo pressed desperately into the touch.

He placed another hand on Corvo’s chest. His eyes flashed black. “Give me something new to watch.”

With a gentle shove, he commanded, “Go.”

* * *

Corvo jerked awake in bed.

Heart racing, he curled onto his side and struggled for breath. He felt separate from his body, like he was floating just outside of his own skin. It took several minutes of deep breathing before Corvo felt solid again.

The feeling of loss was a familiar pain.

It wasn’t even the anniversary of Jessamine’s death, and he was struck to his core at her absence. Grief was such an odd thing, that it could hit so suddenly and without warning.

After a short eternity of lying in bed and allowing the despair to wash over him, Corvo forced himself to get up. He had duties. He had Emily. That was enough.

Corvo rose and grimaced against the pain while he worked out the soreness in his shoulder. It was healing well. But between the green recruit who accidentally stabbed him during yard practice, and the lice infestation that required him to shave his head, he’d had a terrible week.

An itch on the back of his neck faded as quickly as it came, and Corvo grumbled under his breath. He didn’t bother looking around. He knew nobody was there. Not physically. As much as he wanted to think it was a paranoid delusion, instinct said otherwise. Corvo was being watched by someone, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The Outsider hadn’t shown himself in a very long time. But the Mark remained, and that was all Corvo really needed. It was for the best. Visits from that thing only led to trouble anyway.

He wrapped his Marked hand— a sign of mourning as far as anyone else knew, including Emily— and could only hope his luck would improve now.

He’d finally made a decision. It was time to begin Emily’s training.

She was sixteen. At her age, Corvo was fighting and winning tournaments. She’d never even held a real sword. But, that was his fault. Now, with her newfound confidence, he’d begun to see her differently. Corvo thought she was ready to begin.

He found Emily in her suite having measurements taken by the new tailor.

He wasn’t sure who recommended this Darion person, but Emily seemed to get along with him quite well. Plus, the man did have an eye for how to dress Emily like a ruler.

Corvo stood in the doorway for a moment and watched as she was fitted for a suit jacket. His chest swelled with pride at the silhouette she made. Emily would always be his little girl, but Darion would help her present a more mature image to public.

He coughed to get her attention.

“Good morning, Corvo!” Emily called, and waved him inside. She turned her head to Darion. “I’ll take the ones we discussed, in the blue fabric. And the lining in whatever color you recommended. I think our tastes are similar.”

Darion bowed low and beamed. “Of course, Your Highness. I’ll have them ready by the end of the week.”

Once they were alone, Corvo pulled Emily to him and wrapped her in a hug. He buried his nose in her hair and held tight. For some reason, he needed to feel her breathing in his arms. The lingering sense of dread in the back of his mind faded the longer he felt her, warm and safe.

He broke away after a minute and smiled.

“Your new tailor working out?”

“He is. I’m phasing out my whole wardrobe by the end of the season. So, I’ll be keeping him busy.”

Emily straightened her posture and looked into the full-length mirror by the bed. She cocked her head and stared at her reflection.

“I want to put a new face forward at Parliament. No more pretending to be some dainty flower.”

“Oh? What brought this on?”

“I woke up this morning and I realized…” She spun around to look Corvo in the eyes. “Nobles, politicians, The Abbey… they may all be using me, but it’s _me_ they need to use. And I can use them back.” She flung her arms wide. “I’ve felt so powerless for so long. When I was little I thought being empress would be…” She swallowed thickly. “I thought it would be different. Me giving orders and people obeying. It isn’t like that at all. But I can use it to my advantage. They’ll underestimate me, but… I’m stronger than they think.”

Emily’s eyes went unfocused for a split second and Corvo thought she was going to faint.

She raised hand, signaling him to stand back. “I’m alright,” she said, voice trembling. “I just had the strangest feeling.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“Like I was repeating something I’d been told before.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Maybe mother said that to me? And I just remembered?”

“I’ve been thinking about her this morning, too,” Corvo admitted. 

They were quiet for a moment, heads held low. Finally, Corvo cleared his throat.

“Emily, if you have some time before breakfast, I need to speak to you about something.”

“I have time now,” she said, her brows pinched and cautious.

He glanced around the room. They were alone, he was certain. But he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that there were ears everywhere. He’d do a sweep of the Tower later and search for listening devices.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked.

Corvo straightened. “When I was your age, I was fighting in competitions. Winning them, too.” He frowned with the realization of just how long ago that was. He would be an old man before he knew it. “I won’t be around forever. So, it’s time you learned how to protect yourself.”

“Like… fighting?” Her eyes lit up but Emily restrained her enthusiasm. There was a seriousness to her now.

“Yes. I’m going to teach you how to protect yourself.”

Emily tightened her jaw and met his eyes. “Why now?”

Corvo couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that seemed to stain his very bones. He wasn’t sure where this sudden urge to train Emily was coming from, but his instincts screamed its importance. And he always trusted his instincts.

“One day, someone is going come for you. Some assassin, or a rival or someone at court. I don’t know how or when but it’s…” He flexed his Marked hand and sighed with relief at the warm sensation that crept up his arm.

He stared into Emily’s eyes, practically mirrors of his own. “When it happens, you’ll be ready. I’ll make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for amnesia/mind-fuckery. But it's for a good ~~contrivance~~ reason, and will flow into Dishonored 2 and a possible sequel.  
>  ~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> This hurt me too! I tagged for bittersweet ending. I wasn't sure what else to do. 
> 
> At least Ch 15 is lighter in tone!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue! I just posted Ch 14 as well, so make sure you've read that, if you just checked for updates and clicked to the latest chapter.

It had been nearly three months since the Empress’ caravan delivered a drugged Corvo to the Hound Pits. Cecelia kept her word and didn’t ask questions. But the way Corvo disappeared in the middle of the night spoke loud and clear: Urgent business. Don’t ask.

There had been no word from Corvo at all until now. A message came that afternoon, in Corvo’s handwriting no less, announcing he’d be making a social call the next day. It had been ages since he’d done that, and Cecelia wanted to look presentable for him.

She rummaged through her drawer, lifting and discarding garments in a huff. Her blue pants, the ones without any patches or tears, would be perfect. So, of course, they were gone.

Cecelia groaned as a memory snapped into place. She gave them to that strange young man and he never returned them. It wasn’t unexpected. Whoever he was, he was important enough to warrant a rail car ride from Empress Emily and a midnight boat evacuation from the island with Corvo. Still, Cecelia wasn’t made of money. She couldn’t afford to go shopping right now, and those were her good pants.

She found Samuel crouched behind the bar as he restocked the glasses.

“Would it be bad manners to ask Corvo to return my pants?” she asked.

Samuel nearly dropped a tumbler and went red in the face. “I—uh, what’s this about?” he stammered. “How does Corvo have your pants?”

Cecelia rolled her eyes. “I doubt _he_ has them. That young friend of his had them last. They probably ended up in the Tower laundry, or thrown away.” She ran a hand across the back of her neck. “I hope they weren’t thrown away. They were the best pair I had.”

Samuel’s look of confusion didn’t dissipate. “Which young friend? When was this?”

Cecelia felt hollow dread in her core. Samuel was getting older. He was slowing down physically but he hadn’t shown any signs of aging mentally before. Memory loss wasn’t a good sign.

“Samuel, you remember Ceòl don't you?” She moved toward him and forced an uncertain smile. “Corvo’s friend?”

Samuel narrowed his eyes, unamused. “Nice try girlie. Playing jokes on the old man and trying to make me think I've lost my mind? Not gonna work. I'm as sharp as I've ever been.”

Cecelia froze. “Samuel, I'm not— you really don't remember a few months ago? The noise in the attic? The young man without any clothes and he had to wear my pants?”

Samuel shook his head slowly and stood up “No. Cecelia what are you talking about?”

“Samuel, you gave him a ride across the river. Then, he came back here a few weeks later with Corvo. And then…”

Samuel’s hand pressed against Cecelia’s forehead.

“I’m not sick,” she insisted. “You… really don’t remember.”

“Cecelia,” Samuel said, low and gentling, “I think you’d better lie down. If you’re still feeling off in the morning we’ll call for a doctor.”

“I—” Cecelia began to protest, but the fight quickly drained from her. She had the strangest feeling she was being watched, like an itch on the back of her neck. She shivered despite the warm afternoon air. “I am feeling off. Perhaps a bit of rest…”

* * *

A loud thump in attic woke her, just as it did a few months ago. But this time, Cecelia didn’t rouse Samuel to investigate. She grabbed a lantern and climbed the creaky stairs herself.

Her hands shook and the lantern light flickered on the walls as she approached it. The shrine to the Outsider, the one Corvo built years ago, was supposed to be dark and silent. It was always dark and silent. It wasn’t now.

An eerie purple glow came from the lamps at the base and made the shadows cast by the shroud around it appear to swirl like smoke. The air vibrated and hummed with a sound that Cecelia couldn’t place, but found eerily familiar. Despite her better judgement, she approached.

She gasped and stumbled back a step. Her best blue pants were folded neatly on the altar. They looked like they’d been freshly laundered and pressed.

“It was rude of me not to return them sooner, but I’ve been busier than expected.”

A voice came from somewhere behind her. Or was it coming from above? It echoed and resonated off every surface in the attic.

Cecelia recognized that voice and her body stiffened. She _knew_ there was something off about Ceòl. But since she and Samuel had a strict “no questions” policy when it came to Corvo’s activities…

“How incredibly fascinating.”

Cecelia spun towards the shrine and was greeted by a familiar face.

It was Ceòl, or something that looked a great deal like him. He floated in a swirling mist of blackness above the shrine. His head was cocked curiously and the corners of his mouth curled up in mild amusement.

“I _forgot_ about you, Cecelia,” he said, almost breathless.

Cecelia was accustomed to slipping from other people’s minds, but not people who she’d helped in times of need.

“Don’t be insulted,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “It was not my intention, but rather, yours.”

Cecelia had no idea what he was talking about and she didn’t care. She just wanted to shrink down low, small and invisible. Her breathing slowed and the world got sharp around the edges like it always did when she was nervous.

“You don't even know when you're doing it, do you?” He drifted towards her slightly, curious and focused. “What an incredible gift.”

The world became crisp as Cecelia’s nerves sang with fear. Things used to go sharp and still like this when she was a hungry child, sneaking treats from strangers’ kitchens or food stalls on the street. She stole coin a few times when money was tight for her mother and the rent was due, and each time she lifted a purse she wished so hard to be invisible, it was almost as if she were.

But the being above the shrine still stared at her with inky black eyes no matter how much she wished to fade away from his gaze.

“Do you know what the single most important part of a magical ritual is, Cecelia?” the being that looked like Ceòl asked. “It is focus of will.

Maybe if she focused hard enough on making him go away she could forget any of this ever happened.

He laughed.

Had she said that aloud? Could he read her mind? 

“You can’t make yourself forget,” he said. “But you do have that effect on others. Surely, you must have wondered how you survived Havelock’s execution of the servants that day?”

Cecelia trembled at the memory. She’d watched from the shadows as Havelock shot Wallace and Lydia. She was close enough to hear Pendelton’s mumbled apologies. When Havelock’s sunken eyes glanced towards her hiding place in the alley, Cecelia knew she’d been discovered. But then the world turned crisp and slow with panic, Havelock’s stare went blank, and he turned back to Martin.

Cecelia thought she’d gotten lucky.

“Samuel doesn't remember you,” she managed to whisper.

“None of them do,” the Outsider replied. “Except for you.”

“Why?” Cecelia’s pulse returned to normal and she relaxed as the world went soft again. “Why do I still remember?”

“I forgot to visit you before tonight,” he confessed. “After you spoke my old name today, my focus was drawn back here. Little else would have caught my attention in such chaotic times. I tried to touch your mind as you slept. I reached out and you simply…” He raised a ringed hand and stared curiously. “…slipped through my fingers.”

He crossed his arms and pinched his chin in consideration. “So much potential, and all you’ve ever wanted was to survive and keep your head down. That is more unusual than you know. If only I could see with greater clarity,” he lamented. “But there are too many uncertainties in the future of your world to risk creating more ripples now. More’s the pity. I think you could be very interesting to watch.”

The Outsider shrugged, an oddly human gesture for someone who wasn't. “As for your memories of me, it seems there is little I can do, except issue a warning.”

The sound around the altar intensified, dark and low, as if communicating serious intent.

“No one else remembers my time as Ceòl, and it’s for their safety that it stay that way. The more you push and prod, the more likely you are to trigger the recovery of memories I sacrificed a great deal to bury. So, I would ask that you to keep my time in Dunwall just between us. For everyone's sake.”

In other words, she was being told to keep her mouth shut.

Cecelia nodded. “I can do that.” Going unnoticed and keeping things to herself was what she was good at after all.

“One more thing.” The Outsider smiled softly and glanced around the attic. “Keep this shrine intact for as long as you safely can. It has… sentimental value.”

And with that, he dissolved into the darkness. The lanterns flickered out and the shrine fell silent once more.

Cecelia reached out hesitantly, and snatched her pants away from the shrine. She clutched them tightly to her chest as she retreated down the attic stairs.

Her mind swirled with new possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for sticking with this! I spent nearly four months on this, and I hope you've all enjoyed it. 
> 
> You may have noticed that I made this part of a series. I have some ideas for a sequel, but I won't start actively planning it until I've had a chance to play Dishonored 2 at least twice. It comes out in 11 days, and I am in countdown mode! 
> 
> You can subscribe to the series if you want to be alerted when I start posting (it won't be for several months though! fair warning). You can also follow me on [tumblr](https://soontobecyborg.tumblr.com/) for rantings and fangirling.


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